■vtferi 


o 


b!tt 


\  I 

r      t 


''I 


„i 


i     f 


i        :      'V 


\\ 


,P 


yo 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF. CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


c/^^.  at4i4 


^  •     'i 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/footpathhighwayoOOmorarich 


.,ii^:%    ^k 


THE 


jfn0t)nitj)  an^  ligjitnaq: 


OR, 


BY 


BENJAMIN     MORAN 


The  young  noble,  who  is  whirled  through  Europe  in  his  chariot,  sees  society 
at  a  peculiar  elevation,  and  draws  conclusions  widely  different  from  him  who 
makes  the  grand  tour  on  foot.    Haud  inexpertas  loquor. — Goldsmith. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LIPPINCOTT,    GRAMBO,    AND    CO. 

1853. 


THE 


FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY 


OR, 


WANDERINGS   OF  AN  AMERICAN 


IN 


GREAT  BRITAIN,  IN  1851  AND  '52. 


BY 

BENJAMIN    MORAN. 


The  young  noble,  who  is  whirled  through  Europe  in  his  chariot,  sees  society 
at  a  peculiar  elevation,  and  draws  conclusions  widely  dififerent  from  him  who 
makes  the  grand  tour  on  foot.    Uavd  inexpertas  loquor. — Goldsmith, 


I 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO,  AND  CO. 

1853. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853,  by 

LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO,  AND  CO., 

in  the  Office  of  the  Clerk  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  in 
and  for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


TO 

JOHN    GRIGG,    Esq., 

IN    TESTIMONY 

OF 

HIS  GREAT  EXEBTIONS  IN  PROMOTING  AND  EXTENDING  THROUGHOUT  THE 

SOUTH    AND    WEST, 
A    PURE    AND    STERLING    LITERATURE, 

Cliis  %)Ami  nf  ^racrls 

IS 

RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED, 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PKEFACE 


The  press  has  teemed  of  late  with  the  works  of  American 
tourists,  some  artistic,  some  scientific,  and  others,  again,  of  a  more 
purely  literary  type.  There  are,  therefore,  many  readers  who  will 
doubtless  expect  an  apology  from  one  who  ventures  now  to  place 
himself  and  his  itinerary  before  the  public,  though  claiming  no 
eminence  in  the  world  of  letters  and  making  little  pretension  to 
superiority  in  any  particular  accomplishment. 

But  we  live  in  an  age  when  the  people  are  becoming  paramount 
in  all  things ;  and  the  wanderings  described  in  this  little  volume 
took  place  among  a  people  more  interesting  to  the  American 
than  any  other  upon  earth. 

For  forty  years,  the  land  from  which  we  have  drawn  our  politi- 
cal, and  most  of  our  social  institutions,  has  been  undergoing  a 
quiet  but  important  revolution,  the  tendency  of  which  has  been 
steadily  to  favor  a  closer  approximation  between  the  habits,  feel- 
ings, hopes,  and  fears  of  the  two  great  families  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
stock.  While  the  one  has  advanced  in  a  most  brilliant  career 
upon  a  republican  model,  the  other  has  been  continually  soften- 
ing and  smoothing  down  the  salient  points  which  chiefly  distin- 
guish a  limited  monarchy  from  a  republic.  During  these  forty 
years,  the  United  States  has  gradually  lost  the  character  of  the 
"  daughter"  of  Great  Britain.  She  has  assumed  in  her  maturity 
the  novel  relationship  of  a  sister  ;  and  the  reaction  of  her  opinions, 
her  manners,  and  her  prosperity  has  come  to  be  felt  and  acknow- 
ledged in  the  old  homestead,  with  a  force  which  few  can  appre- 
ciate until  they  have  mingled  with  the  English  masses. 

The  tourist  of  wealth  and  fame  is  thrown  by  circumstances 

M310168 


VI  PREFACE. 

chiefly  into  contact  with  the  small  minority  which  forms  the  upper 
classes,  in  countries  where  such  classes  are  established.  He  sees 
little  of  the  multitude — that  multitude  with  whom  it  is  not  im- 
probable that  we  may  be  compelled,  before  many  years  have 
passed,  to  stand  side  by  side  in  the  armed  defence  of  our  common 
principles  against  the  inveterate  foes  of  our  common  liberties. 
The  artistic  or  poetical  tourist,  usually  more  humble  in  fortune, 
is  brought  more  closely  into  contact  with  the  people ;  but,  accus- 
tomed to  look  upon  nature  and  humanity  under  the  reflected 
light  of  his  own  genius  and  taste,  he  is  prone  to  see  all  things, 
whether  charming  or  disgustful,  in  unreal  colors,  and  his  pictures 
too  frequently  owe  more  to  the  imagination  than  the  judgment. 

The  writer  of  the  following  pages  claims  not  to  belong  to  either 
of  the  foregoing  classes  of  travellers.  Educated  to  a  mechanical 
profession,  he  has  never  aspired  to  move  in  the  circles  of  wealth; 
and  too  busy  with  the  realities  of  life  to  devote  much  time  to  the 
accomplishments,  his  offerings  at  the  shrine  of  the  muses  have 
been  few  and  little  noted.  But  some  moments  of  relaxation 
occur  to  all  men,  and  from  youth  he  has  been  blessed  with  occa- 
sional glances  into  the  bright  realms  of  soul-land.  The  songs  of 
his  father's  fatherland  were  familiar  to  his  childhood  ;  the  classics 
and  the  nobler  poems  of  England  were  read  with  avidity  in  some- 
what riper  years ;  and  he  learned  to  think,  with  a  feeling  amount- 
ing to  awe,  of  those  great  master-spirits  of  literature  whose 
writings  have  crowned  them  with  immortality.  To  visit  their 
distant  graves — to  stand  in  the  shadow  of  the  time-worn  castle — 
to  wander  through  the  dim  aisles  of  Gothic  churches,  and  taste  of 
those  sacred  springs  from  which  they  drew  their  inspiration,  became 
a  passion  with  him;  and  so  soon  as  the  slender  accumulations  of 
early  industry  warranted  the  undertaking,  he  flew  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  desire. 

His  journeyings  in  Scotland,  Wales,  and  England  were  chiefly 
performed  on  foot,  amid  the  pressure  of  many  difficulties.  The 
wayside  cottage  was  a  homo  to  him,  and  the  wayfarer  was  his 
brother  and  his  equal.  His  penoillings  and  sketches  were  partly 
communicated  to  American  journals,  that  the  proceeds  might 
aid  him  on  his  way,  but  were  chiefly  preserved  for  the  gratifi- 


PREFACE.  Vll 

cation  of  a  few  who  were  near  and  dear  to  him,  with  a  mere 
vague  and  dreamy  idea  that  they  might  one  day  reach  the  public 
eye  in  volume  form.  They  were  submitted  to  the  inspection  of 
a  literary  friend,  who  urged  their  publication,  and  who,  at  his 
request,  has  penned  this  scarcely  necessary  preface. 

The  author  has  looked  upon  England  and  the  English  from  an 
unusual  position ;  and  there  is  a  truthfulness,  an  unpretending 
sincerity  in  his  descriptions,  which  will  carry  the  reader  with  him 
in  his  lonely  rambles ;  while  even  those  who  may  be  deeply  versed 
in  the  history  of  the  country  and  its  literature,  will  find  within 
these  pages  some  illustrations  both  of  men  and  things  which 
they  will  prize  not  lightly. 

With  these  remarks,  the  volume  is  committed  to  the  public, 
in  the  full  faith  that  it  will  not  be  deemed  a  useless  or  imperti- 
nent addition  to  the  long  catalogue  of  recent  tours. 

C. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAGE 

The  voyage         .......      13 

CHAPTER    II. 

Something  about  Ireland  .  .  .  .  .27 

CHAPTER    III. 
Liverpool — The  ship's  fate        .  .  .  .  .41 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Manchester  and  its  vicinity       .  .  .  .  '         .      47 

CHAPTER    V. 

Sheffield — Wharncliffe  wood — Chatsworth        .  .  .56 

CHAPTER    VI. 

Homes  and  graves  of  Byron  and  Mary  Chaworth — Notting- 
ham— Henry  Kirke  "White     .  .  .  .  .68 

CHAPTER    VII. 

"Walk  to  Derby — London — Incidents  and  remarkable  places  .      80 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

London  thoroughfares — Society — The  Parks — "The  "World's 
Fair" 95 

CHAPTER    IX. 

Rambles  and  reflections  in  London — Tablet  in  Temple  Church 
to  Goldsmith — Tomb  of  Capt.  John  Smith,  the  Virginian — 
Stoke  Pogis  Church,  scene  of  Gray's  *'  Elegy"  .  .     112 

CHAPTER    X. 
London  to  Stratford-upon-Avon  ....    129 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XI. 

PAOK 

Warwick — Kenilworth — Coventry — Birmingham — Steel-pens 
— A  nailer's  shop  and  home — Shenstone's  grave — The  Lea- 
sowes — Dudley — A  storm     .....     140 

CHAPTER    XII. 

Lichfield — Staffordshire  potteries — Chester — Meeting  an  old 
friend — Preston  .  .  .  .  .  .150 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
The  Lake  country  of  England  ....    156 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

From  the  Mersey  to  the  Clyde — Glasgow — An  American  ship 
— The  town — Cathedral  and  University        .  .  .     163 

CHAPTER    XV. 

Ayr — Burns's  cottage — Kirk  Alloway,  and  the  "Banks  o'  Doon"    169 

CHAPTER    XVI. 
The  Scottish  lakes — A  walk  from  Loch  Lomond  to  Loch  Ke- 
turin — An  incident  on  Loch  Keturin — Ride  to  Sterling       .     172 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
Scotland's  capital  ......    179 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
A  visit  to  the  tomb  of  Michael  Bruce,  a  young  Scottish  poet  .    189 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

Melrose — Abbotsford — Dryburgh  Abbey,  the  burial-place  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott 194 

CHAPTER    XX. 
Alnwick  Castle — York  Minster — Lincoln—The  fens,  etc.        .    201 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
London — Northumberland  House — Hampton  Court — Madame 
Taussaud's — Vernon  gallery,  etc.     ....    212 

CHAPTER    XXII. 
Jewish  quarter — Public  statues — Peculiarities  .  .    218 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

PAGE 

Waiting  for  remittances — A  trip  inland — Travelling  compa- 
nions— The  country — The  towns — A  journey  on  foot — Farm 
wages — Rustics  and  their  shoes — The  language — A  negro 
and  his  wife — Temple  Newsam         ....     222 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

Leeds  and  her  manufactures — Working  people — Kirkstall 
Abbey 232 

'      CHAPTER   XXV. 

Harrowgate — Knaresborough — Eugene  Aram — Ripen— -Foun- 
tains Abbey — Brimham  Rocks — Reflections  .  .    238 

'.CHAPTER   XXVI. 

A  walk— Wakefield— Valley  of  the  Calder — Rochdale — Queen's 
visit  to  Manchester  and  Liverpool — Eaton  Hall       .  .    247 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 

Wales — Walk  to  Mold  and  St.  Asaph — An  incident  at  an 
inn — ^Bangor  tubular  bridge — Suspension  bridge — Welsh 
nationalities    ...;...    253 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

A  wedding-party  —  Shrewsbury  —  Market-day  —  Battlefield 
Church 268 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

A  walk — Hare-shooting — Travelling  companions — Kidder- 
minster— Ride  to  Worcester — The  town  and  its  cathedral  .    272 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

Commercial  Travellers — Gloucester  and  its  cathedral — Hostel- 
ries      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .281 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

The  west  of  England— Bristol— St.  Mary  Redcliflfe— Sir  Wm. 
Draper's  tomb — Sterne's  "Eliza" — Lady  Hesketh — Clifton 
Downs — Colston  School — Pronunciation      .  .  .    288 

CHAPTER    XXXII. 
Bath— Its  beauty — Abbey  Church — An  incident        .  .    299 


Zll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

PAOI 

A  coachman — Incidents  on  the  road — "Wells — Its  palace  and 
cathedral — Glastonbury  Abbey — Sedgemoor — A  Saturday 
night  in  an  inn — Monmouth's  rebellion        .  .  .    304 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

Fun  and  fogs — Salisbury  and  its  cathedral — A  walk  to  Stone- 
henge  over  Salisbury  Plain   .  .  .  .  .316 

CHAPTER    XXXV. 

Winchester  and  its  attractions — St.  Cross  Hospital — King 
Arthur's  Round  Table  .  .  .  .  .328 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 
Return  to  London — Rambles — Old  places — Fallen  women     .    336 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

Dining  of  the  Blue  Coat  school-boys — Duke  of  Wellington — 
Mechanics — Tradesmen — Socialists  ....    342 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

Cambridge  and  its  University — The  Eastern  Counties  .    350 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

Norwich  —  Churches — People — Its  treadmill — Lowestoft — 
Yarmouth — Farm  hands  and  farmers — Falstaff's  castle — 
Acle — Farming  and  products — Village  preacher — Wherries    359 

CHAPTER    XL. 
A  visit  to  Rlickling  Hall,  the  birthplace  of  Anne  Boleyn       .    370 

CHAPTER    XLI. 
The  resting-place  of  William  Cowper  .        »   .  .  .    375 

CHAPTER    XLII. 
English  railways  ......    378 

CHAPTER    XLIII. 

Brighton:  its  appearance — The  pavilion — Esplanade — A 
night  with  a  Blue  Coat  boy  .....    386 

CHAPTER    XLIV. 

Farewell  to  England      .  .  .  .  .  .389 


THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY. 


CHAPTER    I 

THE  VOYAGE. 


"Let  go  that  hawser!" 

'^Ay,  ay,  sir!"  And  away  bounded  the  sailors  to  perform  the 
order  so  peremptorily  uttered. 

"Give  her  a  turn  back,  Mr.  Smith.  Steady,  now,  steady  \"  and 
as  the  command  fell  from  the  captain's  lips,  the  stanch  steamship 
Lafayette  moved  slowly  from  her  mooring  at  Pine  Street  Wharl, 
Philadelphia,  and  swung  gracefully  round  into  the  Delaware, 
amidst  the  shouts  of  thousands,  and  the  roar  of  her  own  guns. 

"Stop  her!" 

"  Stop  her  it  is,  sir !"  said  the  engineer,  and  there  she  lay  upon 
the  waters  motionless.  The  huge  monster  appeared  as  if  in  the 
act  of  drawing  a  long  inspiration  before  starting  upon  her  untried 
journey;  and,  with  her  head  turned  seaward,  looked  as  if  eager  to 
be  moving  onward. 

"  Farewell !"  "  good-by — a  happy  voyage  and  prosperous  wea- 
ther !"  and  such  like  greetings  met  the  ears  of  the  passengers  as 
many  of  us  were  recognized  by  friends  on  shore.  The  half- 
smothered  adieus  of  a  few  were  scarcely  intelligible ;  while  the 
tears  of  the  gentler  sex  flowed  freely.  Some  of  those  on  board 
half  regretted  the  step  they  had  taken,  and  wished  themselves 
on  land  •  but  there  was  now  no  retreat. 

A  tow-boat  came  along-side,  and  as  we  had  a  bar  to  cross  it  was 
important  that  we  should  have  her  aid.  She  soon  attached  her 
tough  cords  to  our  huge  ship ;  and  then,  all  things  being  in  readi- 
ness, the  final  order  to  "  go  ahead"  was  given,  and  we  started, 
2 


14  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

upon  our  voyage  across  the  Atlantic.  Handkerchiefs  were  waved, 
shouts  went  up,  and  ''  the  diapason  of  the  cannonade"  mingled  its 
bass  with  the  gruff  chorus  of  more  than  a  thousand  human  voices. 
The  wharves  were  black  with  citizens ;  and,  as  the  distance  was 
increased  between  our  ship  and  them,  the  faces  of  friends  were 
lost  to  recognition,  and  the  parting  was  complete. 

The  tug  relaxed  her  boa-like  attachments  as  soon  as  we  passed 
the  bar  J  and,  as  our  ship  was  left  to  herself,  she  dashed  boldly  on 
her  way.  I  turned  to  survey  my  fellow- voyagers;  but  of  the  many 
around  me,  there  was  not  a  single  face  1  knew,  or  one  that  knew 
me.  All  were  strangers,  and  each  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts. 
Some  were  sad,  some  shy,  some  curious  about  the  ship  and  her 
rigging,  and  some  disposed  to  be  sociable.  The  decks  were  filled 
with  uncoiled  ropes,  the  sailors  busy  running  to  and  fro,  and  the 
pilot  quick  with  his  orders.  All  the  ofl&cers  and  men  appeared 
to  have  plenty  to  do — the  passengers  nothing. 

The  vessel  kept  gallantly  on  her  course,  with  a  fair  prospect  of 
reaching  the  capes  of  Delaware,  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles 
below  Philadelphia,  by  morning ;  but — ulas  for  human  anticipa- 
tions!— a  break  occurred  ere  she  had  completed  thirty  miles,  and  in 
less  time  than  two  hours  from  port  she  was  snugly  and  quietly  at 
anchor  off  Wilmington,  Delaware,  as  calmly  as  if  she  meant  to  go 
to  sleep  for  the  night. 

Curiosity  was  busy  among  the  passengers  as  to  the  cause  of 
detention ;  but  no  one  could  tell.  The  mates  were  ignorant  of 
the  why.  None  dared  to  ask  the  captain,  and  the  engineers  were 
not  visible.  The  pilot  looked  unutterable  things ;  the  officers  joked 
about  waiting  for  the  tide  when  questioned  as  to  the  reasons  for 
stopping;  but  no  satisfaction  could  be  had.  The  firemen  and  ma- 
chinists came  up  from  below  at  intervals  to  breathe  the  fresh  air, 
and  they  certainly  looked  as  if  they  wanted  cooling,  for  each  one 
was  half  roasted.  We  could  hear  the  clang  of  hammers  in  the 
engine-room,  and  that  was  all.  A  break  had  evidently  occurred; 
but  what  it  was  no  one  would  tell.  Some  of  the  passengers  began 
to  grow  nervous,  and  talked  about  leaving  the  ship ;  others  con- 
sidered the  stoppage  an  ominous  beginning  of  what  would  be  a 
perilous  voyage;  while  many  cared  nothing  about  the  detention 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  15 

or  the  cause  of  it,  and  coolly  smoked  cigars,  and  speculated  about 
the  World's  Fair. 

"  We're  in  for  it,"  said  one  at  my  side;  ^'  and,  as  the  ship  has 
only  broken  her  engine  once  in  thirty  miles,  we  have  cause  for 
congratulating  each  other  on  the  excellence  of  her  machinery, 
and  the  prospect  of  reaching  Europe  in  a  month''  I  lauded  his 
composure  in  the  hour  of  adversity.  We  became  friends,  and 
forgot  the  accident  in  each  other's  company. 

Night  gradually  approached;  the  watches  were  appointed,  and 
preparations  made  for  sea;  but  the  vessel  remaioed  stationary. 
The  only  incident  that  occurred  worthy  of  note  was  a  quarrel  be- 
tween the  first  officer  and  one  of  the  sailors.  The  tar  came  on  board 
drunk,  and  when  called  on  deck  to  take  his  place  in  the  watch, 
became  insolent,  and  inclined  for  fight.  He  was  ordered  below, 
but  disregarded  the  officer,  and  drew  his  knife  to  plunge  it  into 
the  mate,  but  was  knocked  down  for  his  pains,  and  very  uncere- 
moniously tumbled  down  the  hatchway  of  the  forecastle,  and  the 
hatch  closed  upon  him,  so  that  he  might  reflect  upon  his  conduct 
in  the  dark. 

This  was  our  first  night  out  of  port,  and  we  were  not  thirty 
miles  on  our  voyage.  The  ship  was  at  anchor,  her  engines  out 
of  order,  and  dissatisfaction  general  among  the  passengers.  The 
cabins  were  really  splendid;  but  the  rich  carpets  and  gaudy 
mirrors,  ample  saloons  and  convenient  state-rooms,  did  not  make 
the  machinery  whole.  We  were  about  to  cross  the  Atlantic, 
and  our  engines  were  already  impaired.  The  captain  made  the 
best  apology  he  was  capable  of  at  the  tea-table ;  but  that  did  not 
repair  the  break;  and  although  it  was  Saturday  night,  and  a  glo- 
rious moon  shone  calmly  down  upon  the  placid  waters  and  motion- 
less ship,  not  one  of  the  passengers  was  content  with  his  prospects. 
Speculation  was  busy  as  to  the  future;  the  probabilities  of  further 
accident  were  discussed;  stories  of  sinking  ships  repeated;  and  one 
by  one  we  stole  to  our  berths  with  the  hope  of  better  prospects  on 
the  morrow. 

The  night  passed  away,  day  dawned,  the  steam  was  gotten  up, 
the  anchor  hove  to  the  merry  and  cheerful  tones  of 

"Billy  Bown's  a  jolly  sailor! 
Who  stole  the  ham?'' 


16  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGnW AY  ; 

and,  as  the  iron  arms  of  the  powerful  mass  relaxed  their  hold  on  the 
muddy  depths  of  the  Delaware,  the  impatient  ship  dashed  proudly 
on  her  way,  as  if  glad  to  be  once  more  at  liberty.  The  morning 
was  serene,  calm,  celestial.  The  soft  breeze  from  the  south  was 
laden  with  dews  and  the  breath  of  flowers,  and  a  more  magnificent 
morn  never  ushered  in  the  Sabbath.  Earth  and  water,  air  and 
light,  all  seemed  to  be  glorifying  the  great  Creator,  and  the  little 
birds  sang,  like  the  stars  of  old,  praise  to  Him  who  feigns  forever. 
Every  heart  was  elated;  the  boders  of  evil  disappeared;  hope  took 
the  place  of  dissatisfaction ;  and  as  the  vessel  left  one  well-known 
point  after  another  far  astern,  and  the  day  advanced,  we  began  to 
realize  the  fact  that  we  were  really  departing.  There  were  seve- 
ral clergymen  on' board,  and  as  the  passengers  numbered  nearly 
seventy,  the  captain  proposed  religious  service,  which  received  the 
assent  of  all,  and  at  the  sound  of  the  ship's  bell  we  repaired  to 
the  saloon,  and  listened  to  a  sermon  by  a  minister  from  Erie,  Pa. 
The  vessel  made  rapid  progress  after  leaving  her  anchorage, 
and  was  soon  oflF  Cape  Henlopen,  where  she  was  "  lain  to,"  for 
the  purpose  of  discharging  her  pilot.  lie  took  his  departure, 
carrying  with  him  a  large  number  of  letters  from  the  passengers 
to  friends  at  home.  As  soon  as  he  was  cleverly  clear  of  the  ship, 
she  was  put  upon  her  course,  the  captain  assuming,  for  the  first 
time,  the  command.  The  engines  worked  well,  and  the  sails 
being  hoisted  immediately,  we  ran  to  sea  finely,  with  a  fair  breeze 
and  prosperous  weather.  At  three  in  the  afternoon,  every  vestige 
of  the  land  was  gone.  I  watched  the  receding  line  of  beach  until 
it  faded  from  the  sight  into  the  vast  body  of  waters  around,  and 
felt  as  if  Hope  and  Regret,  like  two  sisters,  hud  parted  at  my 
side — the  one  to  cheer  me  on  the  long  journey  in  prospect  before 
me ;  the  other  to  dwell  with  those  near  and  dear  to  me  at  home. 
Every  mile  we  sailed  seaward  separated  us  the  farther  from  our 
friends,  and  the  waters  of  the  ocean  grew  greener  and  greener  as 
the  distance  increased,  until  they  finally  assumed  a  deep,  dingy, 
grcenish-bluc  color,  by  no  means  brilliant  to  view.  The  sun  set 
tomewhat  obscurely,  and  the  moon  and  stars  shone  brightly  over 
Bhe  restless  and  tireless  waves.  The  wind  veered  to  the  east  and 
north,  blowing  directly  against  us,  and  greatly  impeding  our 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AxMERICAN.  17 

progress.     The  sails  were  all  furled,  and,  in  nautical  phrase,  every- 
thing made  snug  for  the  night. 

We  were  now  fairly  at  sea.  The  sky  bent  above  us,  like  the 
counterpart  of  the  ocean  beneath,  and  the  waves  began  to  cause 
a  motion  in  our  ship  by  no  means  agreeable  to  some  of  our  pas- 
sengers. Neptune,  inexorable  tyrant,  became  exacting,  and  lands- 
men began  to  grow  serious  and  uneasy,  and  many  of  them  retired 
at  an  early  hour,  not  because  they  were  sea-sick,  but  because 
weariness  had  overtaken  them. 

The  first  few  days  out  are  usually  the  most  disagreeable  of  a 
voyage,  and  the  passengers  are  not  generally  blest  with  good  ap- 
petites. Our  breakfast-table,  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day, 
was  but  indifferently  attended,  and  those  who  did  pay  their  re- 
spects to  it  were  not  well.  Headaches  were  prevalent,  and  the 
motion  of  the  ship  was  unpleasant;  but  no  one  complained  of  sea- 
sickness— all  believed  they  would  escape  that  malady — and  the 
ladies  were  not  even  disposed  to  acknowledge  that  they  were 
suffering  from  it,  although  their  appearance  sufficiently  proved 
they  were. 

But  few  persons  take  much  interest  in  the  details  of  an  Atlantic 
voyage  unless  some  remarkable  occurrences  are  recorded ;  and,  as 
nothing  transpired  worthy  of  remark  until  our  fourth  day  out,  it 
will  be  useless  to  bore  the  reader  with  descriptions  of  life  on 
board.  We  occasionally  saw  a  '^  school"  of  porpoises,  a  flock  of 
petrels,  or  a  fleet  of  the  little  mollusque,  which  sailors  call  ^^  Por- 
tuguese men-o'-war  !"  A  fog,  so  thick  that  it  was  impossible  to 
see  twenty  yards  from  the  ship,  covered  the  ocean  at  one  time  for 
twenty-four  hours.  A  sharp  look-out  was  kept  to  prevent  acci- 
dent, and  the  bell  tolled  at  regular  intervals,  to  give  the  alarm  to 
vessels  in  our  vicinity.  There  was  an  old  tar  on  board  who  had 
been  at  sea  forty-seven  years,  with  but  little  intermission,  and  he 
usually  performed  the  part  of  sentinel  when  it  was  his  watch  on 
deck.  The  sailors  favored  him,  and  never  allowed  him  to  go 
aloft  if  they  could  prevent  it.  He  wore  a  thick  coat  when  on 
duty  in  the  fog,  into  the  pockets  of  which  he  thrust  his  arras 
quite  to  the  elbows,  and  stood,  like  old  Neptune  himself,  gazing  into 
the  sea ;  his   bright  eye  peering  into  the  mist,  with  a  pleasant 

2* 


18  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

twinkle  in  it  that  lit  up  his  ocean-tanned  visage  with  the  rajs  of 
cheerfulness  and  content. 

^'  How  long  have  you  been  going  to  sea,  ray  gay  young  fel- 
low ?"  said  I  to  him,  as  he  was  looking  thoughtlessly  right  into 
the  dull  mist  by  which  we  were  surrounded.  • 

"  Since  I  was  thirteen/'  he  replied,  touching  his  hat  with  a 
pleasant  smile,  "  and  I  never  was  so  dry  in  the  forty-seven  years 
I've  been  a  sailor  as  I  am  now,  sir  V 

"  Good !"  exclaimed  a  passenger  at  my  side ;  "  give  the  old 
chap  some  brandy;  he  deserves  it  for  that;"  and  he  did  get  a 
bottle  of  the  best  in  the  ship  ;  and  he  and  I  became  the  warmest 
of  friends. 

The  vessel,  up  to  this  period,  made  very  fair  progress,  and 
we  had  almost  forgotten  the  accident  that  occurred  to  her  ma- 
chinery while  in  the  Delaware,  when  a  heavy  jarring  was  heard 
in  the  engine-room,  and  the  ship  shook  through  all  her  timbers. 
Crash  followed  crash  in  quick  succession,  and  the  noise  was  fright- 
ful in  the  extreme.  The  passengers  were  dismayed,  and  every 
one  eager  to  learn  the  particulars  of  the  accident,  for  something 
of  a  serious  character  had  evidently  befallen  our  engines.  The 
nature  of  the  break  was  made  known  to  us  by  the  captain,  and 
we  were  assured  that  it  was  a  mere  trifle,  and  would  be  repaired 
soon.  The  ship  was  put  under  canvass,  and  as  the  winds  were 
ahead  we  advanced  slowly,  the  vessel  rolling  heavily  on  the  waters. 
A  cold,  gloomy  sky  spread  over  us,  and  the  ocean  became  greatly 
agitated.  The  day  went  down  without  a  smile ;  the  only  ray 
visible  was  a  gray  streak  along  the  western  horizon,  which  added 
a  more  dismal  appearance,  if  possible,  to  the  sullen  and  chafed 
waters.  Darkness  gathered  fast,  and,  as  it  increased,  and  the 
western  gleam  faded  slowly  out,  the  expanse  of  heaving  sea,  with 
naught  visible  but  our  lonely  and  crippled  ship,  rendered  the 
scene  at  once  grand,  awful,  and  desolate. 

The  accident  was  remedied  about  sundown,  and  the  vessel  put 
under  steam,  but  the  engine  did  not  perform  to  the  satisfaction  of 
any,  and  broke  again  with  a  frightful  noise  early  in  the  evening. 
This  time  the  break  was  serious,  and  the  officers  no  longer  at- 
tempted to  screen  from  the  passengers  the  actual  condition  of 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  19 

the  ship.  The  rock-shaft  of  the  air-pump,  a  very  important  part 
of  our  machinery,  had  snapt  asunder,  and  as  there  was  no 
other  on  board  to  replace  it,  we  were  in  a  very  unpleasant  situa- 
tion. The  night  was  stormy,  the  condition  of  the  vessel  dis- 
heartening, and  the  passengers  were  mostly  restless  and  anxious. 
They  collected  in  little  groups  in  various  parts  of  the  saloons, 
where  they  conversed  about  their  prospects.  Complaint  was  loud, 
and  the  countenance  of  each  was  serious  in  expression.  Not  a 
single  individual  had  confidence  in  the  machinery,  and  many  con- 
jectures were  ventured  as  to  our  fate.  Sleep  fled  the  lids  of  the 
faint-hearted,  and  not  many  of  the  courageous  sought  the  drowsy 
god.  The  night  advanced,  and  each  silently  retired  to  his  state- 
room, prepared,  however,  for  making  his  appearance  on  deck  in 
the  dark,  should  his  presence  be  required  there. 

During,  the  night,  the  captain  held  a  consultation  with  his 
officers  as  to  the  best  course  to  be  pursued,  and  the  decision  was 
to  continue  the  voyage. 

The  engines  were  started  occasionally,  but  they  made  a  fearful 
noise,  and  the  jarring  shook  the  ship  from  keel  to  truck.  They 
had  been  changed  from  the  low  to  the  high-pressure  principle,  in 
the  hope  that  they  could  be  made  to  perform  during  the  remainder 
of  the  passage ;  but  it  was  found  that  there  was  a  serious  waste 
of  steam,  in  consequence  of  which  the  force  of  the  machinery  was 
not  sufficient  to  recover  the  eccentric  at  each  stroke  of  the  piston, 
and  when  such  was  the  case  the  propeller  would  make  a  reverse 
movement,  and  a  crashing  noise  would  follow  that  was  really 
frightful.  In  addition  to  this,  we  had  head-winds  to  contend 
against,  and  a  moderately  rough  sea,  two  things  by  no  means 
calculated  to  elevate  our  hopes  under  the  circumstances. 

At  the  breakfast-table,  on  the  following  morning,  the  captain 
made  known  his  determination  to  continue  the  voyage,  and  as- 
sured us  that,  although  the  engines  had  failed,  he  had  every  con- 
fidence in  the  ship,  and  was  sure  that  he  would  accomplish  the 
passage  without  the  aid  of  steam  in  a  reasonable  time,  or  in  four 
or  five  days  more  than  at  first  supposed.  He  said  that  a  proposi- 
tion had  been  under  consideration  to  run  the  vessel  to  Halifax  for 
repairs;  but  as  that  port  was  full  six  hundred  miles  from  where 


20  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  nionwAYj 

we  then  were,  it  was  abandoned,  and  the  voyage  continued.  The 
jarring  of  the  machinery  he  regarded  as  trifling,  and  of  no  injury 
to  the  ship,  as  it  neither  caused  her  to  leak  nor  strained  her  tim- 
bers. As  an  evidence  of  his  confidence  in  the  strength  and  sailing 
qualities  of  the  ''Lafayette,"  and  the  certainty  of  reaching  port, 
he  stated  that  he  had  with  him  three  pledges  for  whose  welfare 
he  would  risk  everything  he  had,  and  they  were  a  daughter  and 
two  of  her  friends,  then  at  his  side.  If  he  really  thought  there 
was  danger,  he  would  at  once  return  ;  but  he  did  not  anticipate  any 
further  misfortune  than  delay.  This  declaration  was  received  with 
pretty  general  applause  by  the  passengers,  although  there  were 
some  who  were  still  doubtful  of  the  ship,  and  anxious  to  be  on 
shore. 

The  day  wore  away  dull  enough  :  the  passengers  tried  to  con- 
tent themselves ;  but,  with  some,  it  was  impossible.  There  was 
nothing  talked  about  but  our  situation  and  the  indifferent  machin- 
ery of  the  ship.  Toward  evening  the  winds  increased,  and  a 
land-sparrow,  that  had  taken  refuge  with  us  shortly  after  we  lost 
sight  of  land,  was  blown  overboard.  The  little  trembler  had 
grown  weak  for  want  of  food,  and  must  have  starved  in  a  few 
days  had  he  not  fallen  into  the  sea.  He  was  quite  a  pet  with 
passengers,  but  so  shy  as  to  keep  entirely  out  of  reach.  His  loss 
was  something  to  talk  about  aside  from  our  misfortune. 

From  this  time  forward  our  machinery  was  constantly  out  of 
repair.  The  engines  were  started  at  times  when  the  winds  were 
favorable,  but  they  never  continued  to  perform  long.  The  waste 
of  steam  was  great,  and  the  jarring  of  the  machinery  frequent  and 
alarming ;  at  night  particularly  so.  It  was  not  an  unusual  cir- 
cumstance for  some  of  the  passengers  to  remain  up  all  night,  be- 
cause of  the  groaning  and  crashing  of  the  engines,  and  often  did 
we  wish  the  whole  propelling  power  of  the  vessel  deep  in  the  sea. 

Fortunately,  the  weather  was  favorable,  and  the  ocean  calm. 
For  several  days  we  were  blest  with  winds  from  the  right  quarter: 
the  passengers  grew  cheerful,  and,  td  add  to  our  enjoyment,  the 
engines  were  purpo.sely  stopped,  and  the  jarring,  which  so  much 
annoyed  us,  entirely  suspended.  Our  time  was  passed  in  a  man- 
ner most  ogrceablo  to   ourselves :   some  reading,  some   playing 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  21 

drafts,  some  performing  on  musical  instruments.  The  favorite 
amusement  on  deck  was  promenading,  and  as  we  had  a  clear,  un- 
obstructed space  of  full  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  there  was 
ample  room  for  exercise.  Our  passengers  were  a  goodly  company 
in  all,  and  generally  sociable  and  disposed  to  make  themselves 
content. 

The  monotony  of  the  voyage  was  broken  at  times  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  sail.  On  some  days  there  were  as  many  as  five 
seen,  while  on  others  none  came  to  view.  In  the  absence  of 
something  to  afi'ord  amusement  on  deck,  I  was  wont  to  hang  over 
the  ship's  bows,  watching  the  waves  for  hours  as  they  broke  in 
foam  and  roared  against  the  vessel's  side.  Off  soundings,  the 
waters,  which  in  shallower  places  are  a  deep  green  color,  are  of  a 
bright  transparent  blue  in  the  sunlight,  and  when  they  dash  in 
spray  against  the  ship,  they  look  like  an  azure  scarf,  trimmed 
with  snowy  lace,  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

Calms  are  wearying  to  the  passenger,  and  productive  of  much 
uneasiness.  No  person,  to  look  at  the  ocean  then,  would  suppose 
that  the  unruffled  expanse  of  water,  with  its  long,  dull,  sweeping 
undulations,  could  be  so  aroused  as  to  make  a  plaything  of  the 
stoutest  ship.  Its  appearance  to  me,  at  such  times,  has  that  of  a 
vast  rolling  prairie,  whose  rich  grass  was  waving  in  the  breeze  of 
summer.  One  evening  of  quiet,  the  scene  presented  was  beau- 
tiful in  the  extreme.  The  wide,  wide  ocean  was  calm  save  the 
soft  undulation  on  its  surface  :  the  sun  sunk  slowly  down  below 
the  horizon,  and  flung  his  gorgeous  beams,  mellowed  and  blend- 
ing, along  the  waters  and  the  sky.  The  bright  rays  tinged  the 
peaks  of  the  waves,  fell  in  a  flood  of  glory  on  sea  and  ship,  bathed 
ocean  and  sky  in  their  golden  beams  like  a  blush  of  joy  from  the 
great  Creator,  and  then  melted  away  into  softened  tints,  which 
faded  slowly  out,  each  one  growing  fainter  and  fainter,  and  har- 
moniously blending  as  night  obscured  the  hues,  until  darkness 
gathered  on  the  face  of  the  deep  and  silence  nestled  over  the 
waters. 

The  incidents  of  the  voyage  worth  recording  were  few,  but  we 
amused  ourselves  as  best  we  could,  and  as  each  felt  inclined. 
Dancing  was  practised  by  moonlight  on  deck,  an  old  German  gen- 


22  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

tleman,  from  Baltimore,  plaj^ing  the  flute,  while  the  young  ladies 
and  beaux  gayly  moved  to  the  notes  of  his  mellow-toned  instru- 
ment. Several  evenings,  after  sunset,  the  captain  mustered  all 
the  males  on  deck,  and  drilled  us  in  true  militia  style.  No  raw 
recruits,  in  the  States  or  elsewhere,  ever  presented  a  more  laugh- 
able appearance  than  ourselves,  and  I  venture  to  say,  none  ever 
afforded  more  innocent  amusement,  or  were  more  benefited  by  the 
exercise  of  drilling.  We  were  marched  up  and  down  decks,  and 
put  through  every  conceivable  manoeuvre,  the  most  agreeable  of 
which  was  being  conducted  into  the  cabin  to  enjoy  and  discuss 
the  merits  of  a  tub  of  excellent  punch,  prepared  by  the  steward, 
at  the  captain's  expense,  for  our  especial  happiness.  Speeches 
were  usually  a  part  of  the  evening's  entertainment,  and  songs  and 
toasts  added  to  our  gratification.  The  last  of  these  social  gather- 
ings was  gotten  up  by  the  passengers  in  honor  of  the  captain,  on 
which  occasion  one  of  the  company  presented  the  skipper  with  a 
huge  luooden  sword,  as  a  token  of  our  appreciation  of  his  services 
as  commander-in-chief  of  the  Lafayette  Guards.  It  was  sport,  if 
nothing  else;  and  while  we  were  so  engaged,  we  were  not  thinking 
of  our  broken  engines. 

Many  trifling  things  occur  at  sea  that  are  never  alluded  to  by 
a  voyager,  or  but  casually  glanced  at  if  mentioned  at  all.  Speak- 
ing a  vessel  is  a  frequent  event,  and  there  is  something  grand  in 
the  sight  of  a  noble  ship  approaching  to  hail.  Early  one  Sunday 
evening,  when  the  air  was  all  calm,  all  serene,  one  of  our  passen- 
gers, who  was  blest  with  good  eyes,  discovered,  in  the  distance,  a 
faint  line  of  smoke.  "There's  a  steamer,"  said  hej  **  an  Eng- 
lishman bound  to  the  West  Indies,  by  the  course  she's  steering." 

We  looked  in  the  direction  designated,  but  our  optics  were 
powerless  to  discover  the  reported  vessel.  The  passenger,  how- 
ever, insisted  that  he  was  right :  glasses  were  brought  into  requi- 
sition, every  eye  was  turned  to  the  point,  we  all  waited  anxiously 
for  the  mate's  report,  and  were  soon  relieved  of  our  suspense. 
He  slowly  dropped  his  telescope,  and,  as  he  did  it,  a  bright  smile 
stole  softly  over  his  manly  countenance,  and  he  uttered  a  confirma- 
tion of  our  fellow-voyager's  assertion.  *<  She's  bearing  down 
upon  us." 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  28 

^'Can  you^ake  her  out,  Mr.  H.?''  inquired  the  captain, 
bluntly. 

"A  large  steamer,  sir,  with  side  wheels,  and  I  think  an 
American." 

The  reply  was  received  with  a  slight  acknowledgment,  and  the 
commander's  glass  was  at  once  put  into  requisition.  As  he  low- 
ered it,  an  order  was  given  to  the  steersman,  and  our  ship  put  one 
or  two  points  off  her  course  to  meet  the  stranger.  She  was  evi- 
dently approaching,  and  that  rapidly,  for  it  was  not  long  before 
we  could  see  her  distinctly. 

On  she  came — on — on — and  as  she  gradually  neared  us,  her 
hull  and  form  hove  in  sight.  All  the  glasses  on  board  were 
brought  into  requisition.  To  those  who  were  lucky  enough  to 
have  one,  many  a  question  was  directed,  and  all  were  anxious  to 
get  a  look  at  the  stranger.  The  ships  neared  rapidly  now,  and 
our  second  mate,  a  methodical,  quiet,  determined  fellow,  told  us 
that  the  vessel  approaching  was  the  American  steamship  Wash- 
ington, of  the  New  York  and  Bremen  line.  He  had  been  an 
officer  in  her  once,  and  knew  her  long  before  we  had  an  opportu- 
nity to  hail  her. 

On  she  came,  nearer  and  nearer,  and,  as  she  approached  us,  larger 
and  larger  grew  her  form  until  she  appeared  like  a  huge  monster  of 
the  deep,  crushing  the  waves  as  haughtily  beneath  her  tread  as  a 
proud  lion  would  the  waving  grass.  Her  decks  were  crowded  with 
human  beings,  and  the  foam  roared  and  hissed  beneath  her  bows. 
Our  steam  was  shut  off,  and  we  quietly  waited  until  she  was 
abreast  our  ship,  when  the  captain  stepped  upon  the  rail,  told 
our  condition,  and  asked  to  be  reported.  The  Washington  offered 
assistance,  but,  as  we  required  nothing  that  he  could  furnish,  it 
was  declined.  As  soon  as  the  conversation  was  ended,  we  gave 
three  hearty  cheers,  which  were  responded  to  by  those  on  board 
the  stranger.  Another  and  another  followed,  and  each  vessel 
went  on  her  way.  The  Washington  rapidly  left  us,  and  when  we 
went  on  deck  after  tea  she  was  hull  down,  far  astern  of  us,  and  at 
dusk  had  disappeared.  Some  of  our  passengers  had  prepared 
letters  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  them  on  board,  but  the  dis- 
tance between  the  two  ships  was  too  great,  and  closer  proximity 


24  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

would  have  been  dangerous,  however  much  it  m^ht  have  been 
desired. 

Our  passengers  were  of  many  countries  and  dispositions. 
There  were  real  gentlemen,  and  those  who  never  can  be  such: 
and  true,  upright  men  in  rough  clothing ;  and  exquisite  and  pul- 
ing fops  in  broadcloth — a  compound  at  once  varied  and  strange. 
I  had  for  room-mate  a  native  of  South  Carolina,  then  hailing  from 
Mississippi,  and  a  finer  specimen  of  the  Southron  seldom  comes 
under  one's  notice.  A  planter  of  the  South,  he  possessed  all  the 
good  qualities  of  his  race,  with  but  few,  if  any,  of  their  objection- 
able ones,  and  was  in  every  respect  a  polished  gentleman.  Next 
to  him,  in  my  estimation,  was  a  naturalized  citizen  of  the  United 
States,  returning  to  England  on  a  visit  to  his  mother,  after  an 
absence  of  thirty-six  years.  There  was  an  old  German  on  board, 
who  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  twelve  times  ;  a  Frenchman  of  easy, 
graceful  manners,  who  was  then  on  his  sixth  voyage  over  the  deep. 
He  sang  well,  and  at  our  social  gatherings,  after  evening  parade, 
amused  us  with  the  Marseillaise  hymn  in  his  native  tongue. 
There  were  other  Europeans  who  were  returning^  home  on  visits 
to  friends,  and  a  number  of  Americans  on  their  way  to  the  Great 
Exhibition.  There  was  with  us  a  young  Kentuckian,  who  de- 
serves particular  mention.  He  was  about  five  feet  four  inches 
high,  nearly  as  broad  as  he  was  long,  had  light  hair  and  mous- 
tache to  correspond,  and  was  truly  an  original  character.  Ho 
played  cards  and  sleight-o'-hand  tricks,  spoke  French,  and  gallanted 
the  ladies  about  the  decks,  drank  brandy  and  smoked  cigars, 
chewed  tobacco  and  sat  up  the  greater  part  of  the  night  gaming, 
and,  to  crown  his  accomplishments,  managed  to  keep  everybody  in 
complete  ignorance  of  who  and  what  he  was;  and  yet,  for  all,  ho 
was  one  of  the  best-natured  and  most  sociable  fellows  in  the  world. 

Early  rising  is  not  often  indulged  in  by  passengers  at  sea,  and 
but  few  who  cross  the  Atlantic  behold  the  sun  emerge  from  his 
watery  bed.  I  arose  one  morning  at  half  past  three  o'clock  for 
the  purpose  of  seeing  him  rise  in  his  glory,  and  I  shall  never  re- 
gret breaking  my  sleep  for  such  a  splendid  view  as  the  burning 
orb  presented  to  my  gaze.  First,  there  was  a  pale  yellow  light, 
which  tipped  the  edges  of  the  dancing  waves  with  hues  of  gold, 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  25 

and  tlien  a  rim  of  fire,  intensely  bright,  pierced  the  watery  horizon. 
For  an  instant  it  was  motionless,  then  it  grew  larger,  and  the  vast 
globe  of  flame  ascended  resplendently  up  the  morning  sky,  its 
piercing  rays  chasing  the  mists  before  them  over  the  burning  deep. 
It  was  a  glorious  scene  :  the  waves  were  like  liquid  fire  dancing 
in  the  sunlight,  and  the  flying  mists  were  rushing  like  frighted 
spirits  over  the  waters :  the  sky  was  brilliant  with  crimson,  sap- 
phire, purple,  and  gold,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  water  and  cloud, 
sea  and  sky,  were  singing  a  morning  hymn  to  the  Deity.  Such  a 
scene  will  repay  a  man  for  the  anguish  produced  by  sea-sickness, 
and  that  amounts  almost  to  agony. 

On  our  twentieth  day  out,  we  found  ourselves  off  the  coast  of 
Ireland.  We  were  all  on  the  look-out  for  land.  Sails  were  fre- 
quent, and  the  less  venturous  sea-birds  numerous.  Our  captain 
announced  his  determination  to  run  into  Cork  for  coals,  provided 
we  could  get  a  pilot.  We  were  not  long  without  one.  A  coarse- 
looking,  sloop-rigged  craft,  in  appearance  like  a  dull  sailing,  dirty 
fishing-boat,  hove  in  sight  on  our  port-bow,  and  bore  down  for  us. 
She  was  a  sorry-looking  affair  compared  with  the  beautiful  fairy 
little  cruiser  of  our  Cape  Henlopen  pilot.  As  she  approached  us, 
we  could  make  her  out  distinctly ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  she 
did  not  improve  on  inspection.  She  was  a  beggarly,  begrimed  tub, 
filled  with  a  crew  of  Corkonians — and  they  were  unmistakable. 
One  "  jontleman''  hailed  us  :  we  lay  to — he  lowered  a  cockle-shell 
of  a  boat — two  or  three  of  his  men  tumbled  over  him  into  it — the 
oars  were  plied  lustily,  and  the  first  representative  of  her  majesty's 
subjects  that  it  was  my  lot  to  see  fairly  on  the  European  side  of 
the  Atlantic  came  on  board  our  ship.  He  was  ^'  Ould  Irelan" 
complete,  even  to  the  pipe,  and  as  exacting  as  possible.  The  pilot 
was  called  into  the  captain's  cabin  for  business  purposes,  while  we 
scrutinized  his  heauU'fid  craft — a  thing  that  looked  to  me  as  if 
she  might  have  been  the  tender  to  Tom  Hood's  phantom  ship, 
the  Mary  Ann,  of  Shields  : — 

Her  mast  was  black,  her  decks  were  black, 

And  so  her  hull  and  rails  ; 
Her  shrouds  were  black,  her  flag  was  black, 

And  so  were  all  her  sails. 


26  TIIE  FOOTPATH  AND  DIGUWAY  ; 

She  evidently  wanted  scrubbing  "aloft  and  alow,"  and  her 
crew  were  quite  as  much  in  want  of  a  treat  to  soap  and  cold 
water  as  any  of  the  race  I  ever  saw  before. 

We  soon  resumed  our  course,  the  pilot  directing  it,  and  keeping 
the  ship  towards  the  land.  The  miles  grew  fewer  between  us  and 
it,  and  before  mid-day  the  cry  that  has  cheered  many  a  despairing 
soul  rang  through  our  ship — Land  !  land,  ho !  and  every  eye  was 
turned  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Pisgah's  top — a  faint  line  which 
appeared  a  dull  leaden  cloud  resting  on  the  horizon,  but  gave  to  the 
uninitiated  eye  no  indications  of  solid  earth  until  we  approached 
to  within  a  few  miles.  As  the  distance  diminished,  it  became 
distinct,  and  the  bold  rocky  shores  arose,  towering  over  the  sea. 
We  soon  could  trace  the  roads,  the  hedges,  the  stone  walls,  the 
thatched  huts ;  and  then  we  saw  men  and  women  moving  to  and 
fro  in  the  fields,  at  the  labor  of  the  farm.  There  was  the  Emerald 
Isle,  or  a  portion  of  it;  and  treeless  it  was,  too.  Kinsale  Head 
was  passed,  and  then  other  points  followed,  and  our  ship  soon 
gained  the  entrance  to  the  famous  Cove  of  Cork.  As  we  ap- 
proached, there  was  evident  curiosity  among  the  people  on  shore 
as  to  our  craft  and  her  errand.  Numbers  of  small  boats  came  out 
to  meet  us,  and  cheers  and  shouts  went  up  on  all  sides.  We  were 
hurried  on  past  forts  Camden  and  Caroline,  two  frowning  defences, 
one  on  either  side  the  strait.  They  ran  up  their  flags  as  a  salute; 
and  as  all  things  were  in  readiness  with  us,  guns  loaded  and 
primed,  ensigns  rove  and  men  at  their  post,  an  order  was  passed 
to  the  crew  to  stand  by  their  colors ;  and  at  the  sound  of  the  bell 
our  carronadcs  were  fired,  and  the  "  starry  banner"  and  the 
blood-red  flag  of  St.  George  floated  from  our  mast's  head.  The 
hills  echoed  and  re-echoed  the  report  of  our  guns,  until  the  sound 
came  back  to  us  for  the  twentieth  time,  and  the  hollow  booming 
roused  like  magic  the  entire  population  of  Quecnstown.  As  soon 
as  we  were  cleverly  into  the  harbor,  our  vision  was  greeted  by 
some  splendid  scenery.  There  lay  the  town,  directly  in  front, 
with  its  beautiful  villas  and  white  houses  rising  in  terraces  on  the 
hill-side,  until  thoy  crowned  the  top.  The  noble  sheet  of  water 
stretched  out  for  several  miles  to  the  right  and  left,  while  Spike 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  27 

Island,  with  its  barracks  and  formidable  fortresses,  reposed  like  a 
sleeping  war-dog  near  by. 

We  were  all  excitement  and  admiration ;  the  town  was  full  of 
bustle  and  curiosity  about  the  stranger,  boats  full  of  the  natives 
were  around  us,  and  ^'  Huzzaa  for  America  F'  welcomed  us  as  we 
moved  on. 

"VYe  soon  gained  a  favorable  point;  an  order  was  passed  to  the 
men  we  all  could  hear,  as  it  was  clear  and  intelligible,  ^'  Let  go 
that  anchor  I" 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir  V  was  the  response ;  and  the  huge  cable  began 
to  grate  and  ring  as  the  heavy  mass  slipped  into  the  sea.  The 
hoarse  roar  of  the  ponderous  chain  soon  ceased — our  ship  swung 
slowly  round  with  the  tide,  and  lay  like  a  tired  giant  at  rest  upon 
the  placid  waters. 


CHAPTER   II. 

SOMETHING  ABOUT  IRELAND. 

Our  visit  to  Ireland  was  unexpected  and  of  short  duration,  but 
sufficiently  long  to  give  us  a  fair  opportunity  of  seeing  how  the 
lower  class  of  Irish  live.  We  landed  at  Queenstown  on  Friday 
afternoon,  May  30th,  1851,  where  we  were  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  a  throng  of  beggars,  at  once  the  lowest  and  meanest 
I  ever  saw.  They  followed  us,  pleading  for  pence,  and  hung  to 
us  like  wax.  There  was  no  shaking  them  oil,  unless  you  put 
them  aside  by  force,  or  gave  them  into  the  charge  of  a  police  officer. 
In  addition  to  their  half-starved  appearance,  they  were  barefooted, 
and  not  one  in  every  ten  had  sufficient  clothing  to  hide  his  naked- 
ness. No  drunken  Indian  ever  presented  a  more  revolting  spec- 
tacle than  did  these  beggars  of  Queenstown.  They  were  filthy, 
and  covered  with  vermin  -,  so  much  so,  indeed,  as  to  make  me 
shudder  to  think  of  them  for  days  after,  and  cause  my  flesh  to 
creep  with  the  idea  that  I  had  unfortunately  come  into  too  close 
contact  with  them,  and  gotten  a  share  of  the  wandering  tribes  that 


28  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

roamed  unmolested  over  their  skin.  This,  fortunately,  was  not 
the  case;  but  I  could  not  divest  my  mind  of  the  idea,  until  a 
thorough  bathing  and  cleansing  relieved  me  of  the  dust  and 
atmosphere  of  the  town. 

Old  and  young — men  and  women — naked  and  clothed — they 
gathered  around  us  in  a  regular  mob,  and  begged  with  as  much 
earnestness  as  a  lawyer  pleads  a  cause.  There  was  no  means  of 
getting  them  away  but  by  violence,  or  flying  for  refuge  into  an 
open  door,  and  it  was  doubtful  whether  you  would  succeed  then. 
We  drove  the  mendicant  throng  oiF  as  well  as  we  could,  and 
managed  to  shelter  ourselves  in  a  hotel.  Here,  while  partaking 
of  refreshments,  we  were  welcomed,  on  behalf  of  some  gentle- 
men present,  in  a  neat  and  appropriate  speech  by  one  of  the  com- 
pany. He  spoke  in  a  slow,  distinct  manner,  selecting  his  words 
with  great  care,  and  took  occasion  to  say  many  flattering  things 
of  the  United  States.  The  incident  was  happy,  and,  to  us, 
agreeable,  as  it  was  unexpected.  Each  Irishman  here  was  a 
gentleman,  and  each  educated  and  refined,  genteel  in  dress  and 
manners,  and  possessing  most  excellent  social  qualities.  They 
were  in  every  sense  polished  and  friendly,  and  gave  us  abundant 
proof  of  their  sincerity  and  hospitality.  I  do  not  believe  that  a 
more  appropriate  reception  of  strangers  could  be  gotten  up  than 
the  one  so  unexpectedly  tendered  our  company,  or  that  a  more 
gentlemanly  set  of  men  could  be  found  than  the  Irishmen  of 
whom  I  speak.  They  were  candid,  bland,  sociable,  and  refined; 
and  their  conduct  made  a  lasting  impression  on  our  minds.  One 
of  the  passengers  returned  thanks  for  the  reception  given  us, 
and  we  joined  in  three  hearty,  enthusiastic  cheers  for  old  Ireland, 
and  separated,  each  and  every  one  highly  delighted  with  the  true 
Irish  gentleman,  and  with  a  more  favorable  opinion  of  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Queenstown  than  wc  thought  it  pos.siblo  for  us  ever  to 
entertain  at  the  time  of  our  landing.  In  an  hour  we  had  the  two 
extremes  of  Irish  social  distinctions  set  before  us,  and  were  glad 
to  find  so  much  that  is  really  noble  in  a  place  wliore  at  first  we 
thought  there  was  nothing  but  ignorance,  sloth,  mendicity,  im- 
morality, and  suffering. 

Queenstown  is  romantically  located,  and  presents  an  attractive 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  29 

appearance  to  the  stranger.  The  houses  are  built  on  streets  which 
rise  like  terraces  one  above  the  other,  until  they  crown  the  hills 
which  overlook  the  spacious  Cove  of  Cork.  Some  of  the  residences 
of  the  gentry  are  really  splendid,  and  in  them  is  to  be  found  all 
that  a  man  can  desire  to  make  him  happy. 

All  along  the  river  Lee,  a  beautiful  little  stream  which  runs 
into  the  Cove,  and  on  which  the  city  of  Cork  stands,  there  are 
many  handsome  mansions  and  a  great  deal  of  fine  scenery.  Trees 
are  scarce,  except  in  the  parks,  but  the  land  is  cultivated  down  to 
the  river's  brink,  and  that  in  the  highest  state.  At  one  point 
along  the  stream  we  noticed  a  large  building,  with  two  high  tow- 
ers, rising  like  sentinels  up  to  heaven,  and,  on  inquiring,  learned 
that  it  was  a  memorial  to  Father  Matthew,  erected  by  a  tailor  of 
Cork  in  commemoration  of  the  services  of  that  distinguished  man. 
A  number  of  pretty  little  cottages  peeped  out  from  ivy  and  flowers 
as  we  passed,  and  the  ruins  of  an  old  building,  hung  over  with 
ivy,  reminded  us  that  we  were  in  one  of  the  lands  of  Eld.  The 
dwellings  of  the  poor,  when  seen  and  compared  with  those  of  the 
wealthy,  were  the  merest  hovels  imaginable.  At  a  distance,  the 
shores  and  villages  looked  inviting;  but  no  sooner  was  foot  set  upon 
the  soil  than  wretchedness  and  misery  met  us  at  almost  every  turn. 

Cork  has  ever  been  famous  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  for 
the  beauty  of  its  harbor  and  the  hospitality  of  its  inhabitants;  but 
no  traveller  has  yet  given  the  world  a  correct  picture  of  the 
degradation  and  wretchedness  of  its  pauper  population.  On  our 
side  of  the  ocean,  we  occasionally  hear  vague  accounts  of  the' 
condition  of  the  peasantry  in  the  south  of  Ireland ;  and  at  one 
period,  when  a  desolating  famine  prevailed  in  that  portion  of  the 
island,  a  ship  was  freighted  and  sent  from  our  shores  with  succor 
to  the  famished  and  dying.  This  exhibition  of  a  nation's  be- 
nevolence and  charity  is  remembered  by  the  inhabitants  of  Cork 
and  the  adjacent  country  with  the  liveliest  feelings  of  gratitude, 
and  no  American  visits  that  city,  at  present,  without  receiving  a 
cordial  and  affectionate  welcome  from  the  upper  classes  of  society. 
The  wealthy  portion  of  the  community  praise  our  philanthropy, 
while  the  poor  heap  benedictions  and  prayers  upon  our  heads. 
We  are  regarded  by  them  as  a  favored  and  prosperous  people; 

3* 


30  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

but,  alas  for  poor  degraded  Ireland,  the  American  who  visits  her 
shores  must  shudder  at  her  wretchedness,  and  mourn  over  her 
almost  hopeless  misery. 

At  Cork,  the  beggars  were  far  worse  than  they  were  at  Queens- 
town,  and  their  perseverance  and  energy  were  worthy  of  a  better 
cause  than  the  one  in  which  they  were  employed.  Men,  women, 
and  children  waylaid  us  in  such  numbers  as  to  completely  ob- 
struct our  passage,  and  we  were  scarcely  able  to  drive  them  oflf. 
The  women  were  the  most  shameless  of  slatterns,  and  made  open 
propositions,  of  the  most  revolting  character,  without  a  blush. 
How  the  respectable  portion  of  the  inhabitants  content  them- 
selves to  live  in  such  a  community  is  a  mystery ;  and  the  only 
way  to  account  for  it  is  by  supposing  that  they  are  so  accustomed 
to  beggars  and  harlots  that  they  regard  them  as  a  necessary  evil, 
not  worth  removing  from  their  town.  The  men  were  but  little 
better  than  the  women  in  point  of  morality.  Their  unblushing 
impudence  knew  no  check;  and  they  were  as  far  below  the  beg- 
gars of  Queenstown  as  I  thought  the  latter  below  the  drunken 
savage.  The  women  would  take  a  man  by  the  arm  and  insist 
upon  his  company,  and  when  they  found  it  impossible  to  induce 
him  to  comply,  they  would  commence  with  a  shower  of  obscenity 
so  horrible  and  profanely  vile,  as  to  make  one  think  them  dwellers 
of  Pandaemonium  let  loose,  for  a  while,  to  pollute  and  slime  the 
earth. 

Our  company  divided;  some  lodging  at  the  Victoria,  others  at 
*the  Imperial,  the  two  largest  hotels  of  the  city.  I  arose  at  an 
early  hour  the  following  morning,  and  took  a  stroll  about  the 
place.  Although  the  sun  was  high,  there  were  no  shops  open, 
but  few  people  in  the  street,  and  scarcely  a  beggar  visible — a  most 
remarkable  circumstance  to  mo,  when  I  recalled  to  mind  the  crowds 
of  the  previous  night.  The  thoroughfares  were  comparatively 
deserted,  and  the  few  persons  who  were  abroad  were  of  the  la- 
boring class.  The  houses  of  Cork  are  generally  well  built,  par- 
ticularly those  in  the  fa.«hionablc  and  business  portions.  When 
I  speak  of  houses,  I  make  no  reference,  of  course,  to  the  hovels 
of  the  beggars;  my  remarks  apply  only  to  the  dwellings  and 
stores  of  the  aflluent  and  favorably  circumstanced.     The  homes 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  31 

of  the  mendicant  population  of  Cork  are  dens  of  wretclicdness, 
unfit  for  human  habitations. 

By  eight  o'clock  the  streets  began  to  present  some  activity, 
and  when  we  returned  to  them  after  our  morning  meal  they  were 
alive  with  ragged  beggars.  It  was  a  mystery  where  they  came 
from.  Every  stone  must  have  concealed  one,  as  did  the  bracken 
the  warriors  of  Roderick  Dhu,  until  the  time  arrived  for  them 
to  reveal  themselves.  They  were  countless,  hungry,  importunate, 
impudent,  servile,  cringing,  and  eminently  persevering  in  asking 
alms.  Not  one  of  them  had  breakfasted,  according  to  his  own 
account;  and  "be  plased,  yer  honor,  to  give  me  a  ha'penny  to  get 
somethin'  to  ate,"  was  the  sum  total  of  their  petition.  When  a 
few  coppers  were  thrown  them,  they  gathered  them  up  with 
eagerness,  elbowing  and  thumping  each  other  gloriously  to  get 
at  the  money ;  nor  were  the  successful  ones  satisfied  with  their 
gains,  but  became  more  importunate  than  they  were  at  first. 
Flattery  and  persuasion — appeals  and  threats — were  alike  used 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  alms,  and  the  news  of  our  liberality 
spread  like  wildfire,  if  I  may  judge  from  the  number  of  raga- 
muffins that  came  thronging  round  us.  I  thought  all  the  rags 
in  creation  were  on  the  backs  of  our  energetic,  screeching, 
screaming  besiegers;  and  they  were  of  all  ages,  from  the  octo- 
genarian to  the  puling  infiint  in  its  mother's  arms.  The  race 
was  evidently  productive,  and  there  is  but  little  doubt  of  Ireland 
being  able  to  produce  her  quota  of  men,  whether  starvation  pre- 
vails or  not.  Poverty  in  Cork  is  favorable  to  reproduction,  and 
the  low  Irish  generate  as  rapidly  as  negroes  in  slavery. 

The  crowd  grew  denser  and  denser ;  Paddy  became  pugnacious, 
and  a  stray  fist  occasionally  found  its  way  into  the  face  of  a 
friend  of  its  owner's  just  before  it.  "Be  aisy,  Pat  Mulony;" 
"Kape  yer  elbows  in  yer  pockets,  Ted  Murphy;"  "Och,  yer  a 
fine  Amerikin  jointleman,  sir!  and  ye'll  throw  me  the  sixpence  ye 
hould  in  yer  hand,"  and  such  like  expressions  and  compliments, 
were  numerous.  We  were  literally  beleaguered  by  the  rabble, 
until  the  attention  of  the  police  was  attracted  to  the  mob,  and 
that  useful  body  made  their  appearance.  The  blue  coats  struck 
terror  into  Pat,  and  the  cowardly  band  fled  like  criminals  before 


32  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  nionwAT ; 

them.  In  a  much  less  time  than  it  takes  rac  to  write  the  story, 
the  whole  mass  vanished  like  a  litter  of  young  rabbits.  Some, 
more  daring  than  the  rest,  returned  to  the  charge  as  soon  as  they 
thought  the  oflScers  out  of  the  way ;  but  they  came  cautiously — 
sneaking  along  as  if  expecting  a  blow  from  some  unseen  hand, 
and  glancing  occasionally  to  the  right  and  left  for  a  policeman, 
the  sight  of  whom  was  sufficient  to  cause  a  precipitate  and  inglo- 
rious retreat.  Our  imprudence  caused  the  guardians  of  the  public 
peace  some  work.  Paddy  was  too  wide  awake  to  let  the  ^^jointle- 
meii"  who  threw  pennies  about  so  liberally  escape  easily,  and 
when  we  secured  jaunting  cars  and  set  out  on  a  trip  to  the  coun- 
try, we  had  a  train  of  honor,  composed  of  Cork  beggars,  to 
escort  us  on  our  way,  nor  did  we  get  rid  of  the  pestering  rascals 
readily.  A  few  pence  thrown  to  them,  in  hopes  of  being  an  in- 
ducement for  them  to  discontinue  their  appeals,  was  encourage- 
ment for  them  to  follow.  They  knew  "  the  value  of  peace  and 
quiet"  too  well  to  be  satisfied  with  trifles,  and  ran  after  us  for 
several  miles.  As  we  passed  through  the  purlieus  of  the  town, 
our  retinue  increased,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  the  additions  were 
far  from  desirable.  Carroty-headed,  uncombed  females,  old  and 
young,  joined  our  guard  of  honor,  and  FalstafF's  ragged  regiment 
was  a  princely  set  out,  to  our  escort.  We  had  no  other  way  of 
relieving  ourselves  of  the  incubus  than  using  the  whip,  and  that 
cfTectcd  our  object.  They  skulked  at  once,  and  from  flattery 
turned  to  abuse.  "Yo  mane,  beastly  Yankees,  the  likes  of  yon 
jointlemen  !"  "  Sncugh !  yer  a  set  o*  sneakin'  thavcs,  and  bad 
luck  to  ye  all !"  was  the  vote  of  thanks  that  followed  us  from  the 
exacting  knaves. 

We  dashed  boldly  out  into  the  country,  and  soon  enjoyed  the 
beauties  of  rural  scenery.  Our  drive  was  about  twelve  miles, 
going  and  returning,  full  of  interest  to  us  and  highly  instructive. 
There  were  twelve  in  our  company,  four  to  each  jaunting  car,  an 
open  vehicle,  with  seats  for  that  number  in  addition  to  the  driver. 
The  passengers  sit  facing  the  wheels,  and  have  excellent  opportu- 
nities for  observation.  It  is  an  odd  way  of  riding,  but  for  all, 
agreeable.  Our  whip  was  a  fair  specimen  of  his  race,  talkative 
in  the  extreme,  and  well  informed.     The  roads  attracted  our  ad- 


33 

miration,  and  they  certainly  deserved  it.  They  are  so  beautifully 
smooth,  so  evenly  made,  that  all  jolting  is  avoided,  and  you  roll 
over  them  as  softly  as  if  on  a  floor.  They  are  not  lined  with 
wood-fences  as  with  us,  but  with  substantially  built  stone  walls, 
or  hedges  of  sweet  blossoming  hawthorn,  the  odors  from  which 
impregnate  the  air  like  incense.  The  fields  were  highly  cultivated, 
there  being  scarcely  a  spot  untilled.  Trees  were  rare,  except  in 
the  parks,  where  we  noticed  many  varieties,  natives  to  the  coun- 
try, besides  exotics.  The  rural  residences  of  the  gentry  on  the 
route  were  beautiful  places,  there  being  no  expense  spared  by  the 
proprietors  to  make  each  an  earthly  paradise.  Some  of  them 
were  perched  upon  hills  towering  above  trees  and  shrubbery,  rich 
flowers,  and  clambering  ivy;  others  were  quietly  nestled  in  secluded 
nooks,  at  a  short  distance  from  the  highway,  and  only  visible  at 
openings  in  the  groves,  through  which  they  peered,  like  shy  young 
maidens  who  are  curious  to  see,  yet  fear  to  be  seen.  They  all 
wore  an  aristocratic  air,  and  looked  the  very  habitations  of  ease 
and  afiluence.  If  they  were  a  fair  sample  of  all  the  rural  abodes 
of  Ireland,  then  we  might  reasonably  expect  to  see  a  happy  and 
contented  people  there ;  but,  unfortunately,  they  are  not. 

I  was  anxious  to  learn  something  of  the  peasantry,  and  to  see 
their  dwellings,  and  observe  their  mode  of  living.  There  were 
abundant  opportunities  for  observation,  and,  jumping  from  the 
car,  I  soon  had  a  chance  to  gratify  my  curiosity.  I  entered  one 
of  the  hedge-cottages,  on  the  plea  of  getting  a  drink  of  water,  and 
never  did  I  dream  that  human  beings  could  be  so  degraded  and 
sunken  in  poverty  and  wretchedness  as  were  the  occupants  of  that 
sty.  Their  condition  was  brutal  beyond  conjecture,  and  the 
place  was  such  as  we  in  the  United  States  would  not  put  a  worth- 
less cur  into.  There  were  but  the  four  bare  walls,  a  thatched 
roof,  with  a  hole  in  it,  as  an  apology  for  a  chimney ;  a  ground 
floor,  no  windows,  and  not  a  single  article  one  could  con- 
scientiously call  furniture.  In  one  corner  sat  an  old  woman, 
picking  vermin  from  the  person  of  a  little  girl,  and  apparently 
well  pleased  with  her  occupation.  There  were  no  bed,  no  stove, 
and  no  cooking  utensils  of  any  consequence  in  the  place;  no 
chairs,  a  single  table,  which  would  barely  hold  together,  and  a 


34  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

pack  of  filthy  rags  on  the  floor  for  beddiDg.  The  only  means  of 
light  was  the  door,  and  that  was  so  low  as  scarcely  to  admit  a 
person  in  an  upright  position.  In  this  miserable  hovel  there 
were  niiie  hitman  heimjSj  all  women  and  children,  not  one  of 
whom  had  sufficient  covering  to  hide  her  nakedness,  or  even 
give  to  the  beholder  the  idea  that  she  was  clad.  They  were 
barefooted  and  bareheaded.  Neither  of  them  owned  a  bonnet, 
and  shoes  were  what  they  never  had.  On  inquiry  of  the  woman, 
who  answered  my  questions,  I  was  told  that  her  husband  was  a 
farm -laborer,  and  earned  about  five  shillings  per  week,  out  of 
which  sum  he  paid  tenpence  rent  for  the  hut  above  described, 
and  supported  a  family  of  twelve  persons.  What  their  food  was, 
can  be  surmised  from  the  sum  devoted  to  its  purchase ;  and  as 
provisions  are  dearer  in  Ireland  than  in  the  United  States,  there 
is  reason  to  suppose  that  oatmeal  and  potatoes  comprised  the 
assortment.  So  the  woman  said,  and  she  probably  told  the  truth. 
What  else  could  be  obtained  for  the  sum  that  would  suffice  for 
twelve  persons  ? 

The  other  cottages  at  which  I  stopped  were,  with  trifling  ex- 
ceptions, similar  to  the  one  mentioned,  and  the  occupants  were 
soulless,  cringing,  listless  wretches,  but  little  above  brutes,  and 
not  so  intelligent  as  some  dumb  animals.  We  met  several  labor- 
ers at  work  on  the  roads,  who  told  us  their  wages  varied  from 
sixpence  to  one  shilling  per  day;  out  of  which  sum  they  are 
obliged  to  pay  rent,  and  find  food  for  their  families. 

Our  destination  was  IJlarney  Castle,  the  name  of  which  is 
famous  the  world  over.  Wo  arrived  at  the  lodge-gate  early  in 
the  day,  and,  leaving  our  conveyances  there,  walked  up  to  the  old 
ruins.  The  hawthorn  hedges  sent  up  their  delicious  perfume, 
and  thousands  of  flowers  around  added  their  odors  to  the  incense 
from  the  new-mown  hay.  We  found  the  castle  much  decayed, 
and  overhung  with  a  net  of  ivy.  The  walls  are  worn  and  broken 
in  places,  but  still  tower  to  the  height  of  one  hundred  feet.  We 
ascended  by  a  spiral  stone  stairway  to  the  top,  from  which  wo 
had  a  splendid  view  of  the  valley  bolow — of  waving  cornfields, 
extensive  parks,  numerous  cottages,  and  large  dwellings.  Here 
wo  mot  several  of  our  fellow-pa.ssengers,  among  whom  were  three 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  35 

young  ladies,  all  of  whom  were  delighted  with  the  scenery  and 
ruins.  The  thick  walls,  dark  cells,  secret  passages,  and  deserted 
halls  were  new  to  us,  and  we  were  reminded  by  them  that  we 
were  in  a  historic  land.  Among  the  curiosities,  we  were  shown 
the  world-renowned  "  Blarney  Stone,"  which  is  placed  on  the  top 
of  one  of  the  walls  of  the  building,  from  whence  it  derives  its 
name.  Visitors  usually  touch  it,  and  the  wear  it  receives  from 
the  constant  laying  on  of  hands  keeps  it  highly  polished.  The 
castle  is  said  to  be  seven  hundred  and  thirty  years  old,  and  was 
for  a  long  period  the  residence  of  a  distinguished  Irish  nobleman, 
or  petty  monarch,  O'Something — I  don't  remember  what — whose 
race  and  history  have  alike  perished,  leaving  no  other  memorial 
than  the  walls  of  Blarney,  and  the  legends  connected  with  them. 

The  estate  contains  about  eighteen  hundred  acres,  nearly  all  of 
which  is  under  cultivation.  Five  hundred  men  are  constantly 
employed  upon  it,  at  fair  wages  for  Ireland ;  and  they  generally 
appear  content  with  their  lot.  There  are  full  as  many  cattle  as 
men  on  the  estate,  and,  from  my  own  observations,  they  are  bet- 
ter sheltered  in  stormy  weather  than  the  peasantry,  and  far  better 
cared  for.  The  stables  in  which  they  are  kept  are  infinitely  su- 
perior to  the  hedge  cottages. 

The  attendants  were  exceedingly  polite,  and  numerous.  There 
was  one  to  bow  us  through  the  delicious  groves  of  Blarney,  an- 
other to  guide  us  through  the  castle,  one  to  show  us  the  stables, 
and  one  to  accompany  us  back  to  the  gate.  A  very  attentive 
and  obliging  people  they  were,  and  their  plan  of  subdividing 
labor  was  remarkable.  But  cannot  one  do  all  ?  thought  I,  and 
the  answer  came  readily:  "That  won't  do;  each  one  of  these 
has  his  post,  and  each  expects,  ay,  demands,  pay  for  thrusting 
himself  into  your  service,  and  will  get  it.  If  there  were  but  one, 
he  would  get  a  sixpence  from  each;  but  as  there  are  four,  each 
gets  his  fee,  and  you  are  the  suficrer — they  the  gainers."  And 
my  reasoning  was  correct.  "  Be  plased  to  remimber  me,  zur !  I 
took  ye  till  the  castle,"  was  the  appeal  of  one,  and  the  same 
came  from  the  balance,  with  suitable  modifications.  We  each 
paid  eigh teen-pence  at  the  ruins,  and  thought  we  were  released; 
but  no,  by  no  means.     The  coarse,  vulgar  slattern  at  the  lodge 


36  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

had  a  claim  ^^for  standin'  by  the  gate  till  yer  honors  returned;" 
but  it  was  not  allowed,  and  we  received  her  pious  benediction. 
Coaxing  and  flattery  were  tried  at  first,  but  they  failed ;  and  then 
she  abused,  as  only  the  low  and  beastly  can  abuse.  The  word 
''Yankee"  was  frequent  in  the  torrent  of  slime  she  bespattered 
us  with,  and  the  "  likes  o'  ye  jointlemen  I"  was  the  last  expres- 
sion of  hers  that  reached  our  ears. 

We  rolled  away  towards  Cork,  over  a  splendid  road,  difierent 
from  the  one  by  which  we  left  the  city.  The  weather  was  warm, 
the  atmosphere  quivered  with  heat;  but  still  the  air  was  not  very 
oppressive.  The  rapid  motion  of  our  car  created  a  current,  and 
kept  us  cool.  The  peasantry  we  met  were  a  degraded  race,  and 
nearly  all  barefooted,  and  without  energy,  except  to  beg ;  and  it 
surprised  me  that  some  of  them  mustered  courage  for  that,  when 
I  considered  their  laziness.  Two  or  three  of  the  boys  ran  after 
our  conveyances  full  five  miles  in  expectation  of  securing  a  penny, 
and,  poor  wretches,  they  earned  it. 

The  scenery  by  the  return  route  was  really  beautiful.  At  one 
point  of  the  turnpike,  where  there  was  a  sudden  turn,  a  splendid 
valley  burst  unexpectedly  on  our  view,  like  a  fairy  scene.  Around 
it  arose  an  amphitheatre  of  hills,  and  through  it  meandered  a 
gurgling  stream,  on  whose  banks  waved  the  rich  verdure  of  the 
Emerald  Isle.  An  old  castle,  ivy-covered,  crowned  an  eminence, 
and  in  the  far  distance  peered  up  the  spires  of  the  city. 

]3ut  few  farm-houses,  worthy  of  the  name,  met  our  sight.  We 
saw  one  or  two  that  had  a  neut  appearance,  as  if  they  were  the 
abodes  of  comfort;  but  they  were  all.  The  cottages,  or  huts,  were 
numerous,  and  in  some  instances  so  small  as  to  be  scarcely  seen, 
or  distinguished  from  mud-banks.  In  the  whole  route,  we  saw 
but  one  solitary  female  with  shoes  on,  among  the  peasantry,  and 
she  was  a  curiosity.  The  balance  were  barefooted  and  bare- 
headed; but,  although  the  weather  was  quite  warm,  if  either  of 
them  had  an  old  cloak,  no  matter  how  ragged  it  was,  she  had  it 
on.  They  looked  worse  than  half-civilized  Indians  with  us,  by 
far,  and  were  surely  more  degraded  and  brutalized.  Their  long, 
dark  hair  hung  loosely  over  their  shoulders,  and  their  black  eyes 


37 

and  brown  complexions  brought  to  my  mind  the  gypsies  of  which 
we  hear  so  much  and  see  so  little. 

As  we  neared  the  city,  we  met  throngs  of  poor  on  their  way  to 
witness  a  military  review  about  to  take  place  in  honor  of  the 
Queen's  birthday.  It  was  probably  a  favorable  time  to  observe 
the  mendicant  inhabitants  of  Cork,  as  on  such  occasions  they 
generally  turn  out  en  masse.  The  number  of  beggars  is  beyond 
computation ;  but,  as  the  population  of  the  place  is  nearly  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  thousand^  it  would  not  be  far  off  the  mark  to 
set  the  alms-askers  down  at  one-third  that  number,  or  forty 
thousand  who  are  dependent  mainly  upon  beggary  for  support  in 
Cork  only.  To  Americans  who  know  nothing  of  the  lower  class 
of  Irish  in  their  native  land,  this  may  appear  an  exaggeration, 
but  actual  observation  will  confirm  the  statement.  They  are  so 
numerous  that  it  is  impossible  for  a  person  to  walk  fifty  yards  in 
the  city,  during  business  hours,  without  meeting  a  score  of  them. 
The  merchants  and  tradesmen  are  gentlemanly  in  their  deport- 
ment, and  take  evident  pleasure  in  showing  kindness  and  hospi- 
tality to  strangers ;  but  when  spoken  to  concerning  the  laboring 
poor  and  mendicants,  exhibit  but  little  sympathy  for  that  class, 
and  try  to  avoid  allusion  to  them,  and  assert  that  the  wretched- 
ness and  misery  into  which  they  have  fallen  are  attributable  to 
habits  of  indolence  and  crime.  There  appears  to  be  a  wall  of 
adamant  between  the  laborer  and  the  respectable  caste,  and  a 
hatred  of  each  other  as  strong  as  ever  existed  between  rival  tribes 
of  savages.  The  rich  spurn  and  trample  the  poor,  and  the  poor 
hate  them  in  return  for  their  pains. 

The  review  was  not  on  an  extensive  scale,  about  four  thousand 
troops  only  being  out.  Among  them  we  noticed  a  regiment  of 
pensioners,  or  soldiers  who  by  long  service  had  become  entitled 
to  a  discharge  from  the  army,  with  a  small  annual  allowance. 
Their  number  was  about  eight  hundred ;  the  most  of  them  were 
Irish,  and  all  appeared  to  be  as  fond  of  military  display  and 
showy  uniforms  as  young  recruits.  A  park  of  artillery  bellowed 
forth  its  thunder  furiously,  and  the  rattle  of  small-arms,  at  one 
time,  was  continuous,  giving  the  uninitiated  a  faint  idea  of  the 
roar  and  turmoil  of  battle.  Every  regiment  was  attended  by  an 
4 


38 

excellent  band,  and  the  music  was  to  us  the  most  attractive  fea- 
ture of  the  display.  What  surprised  us  mo8t  was  the  variety  of 
uniforms,  each  regiment  having  a  different  dress,  and  only  one  of 
all  wore  the  famous  ^*  red  coats"  so  much  despised  by  our  patriotic 
forefathers. 

While  viewing  the  parade,  we  entered  into  conversation  with 
several  of  the  assembled  spectators,  who  knew  where  we  were 
from.  They  spoke  of  the  condition  of  Ireland,  particularly  of 
the  South,  and,  pointing  to  the  troops  as  they  tiled  off,  their 
showy  uniforms  and  glittering  arms  gleaming  in  the  sun,  said 
that  "thousands  of  poor  were  starving  around,  and  no  aid  fur- 
nished them  by  the  government,  while  an  army  was  sustained  in 
their  midst,  at  an  enormous  expense,  to  keep  them  in  subjection. 
We  have  nearly  eight  thousand  soldiers  among  us,  in  time  of 
peace,  whose  sole  duty  is  to  keep  us  quiet,  and  hold  us  in  »we." 
I  thought  the  spectacle  one  worth  a  few  remarks.  Here  was  a 
standing  army  among  an  ignorant,  brutalized,  idle,  and  starving 
peasantry,  maintained  at  an  enormous  expense  to  keep  the  race 
in  submission,  and  not  one  penny  expended  to  better  its  con- 
dition. The  general  appearance  of  the  throng  was  similar  to  that 
of  the  laboring  men  we  had  seen  in  our  morning's  ride.  Their 
clothing  was  rags,  their  conduct  debased. 

One  of  the  first  objects  that  attracted  my  attention  in  Cork 
was  a  small  donkey,  harnessed  to  a  cart  about  the  size  of  a  wheel- 
barrow, followed  by  a  barefooted  woman,  who  was  busily  engaged 
in  gathering  up  the  filth  and  offal  that  she  found  in  the  street. 
Afterwards  I  observed  the  same  thing  frequently,  and  noticed 
girls  und  men  gathering  the  dung  of  animals,  with  their  hands, 
from  the  hijihways.  Some  of  the  females  were  among  the  ugliest 
creatures  alive,  und  with  dirty  faces,  mopped  hair,  and  ragged 
garments,  looked  like  so  many  *' weird  sisters."  No  one  who  has 
not  seen  the  laboring  poor  and  mendicant  population  of  Ireland, 
on  their  own  soil,  can  form  a  correct  estimate  of  their  wretched- 
ness, or  the  degradation  into  which  they  are  sunk.  Suffering  is 
the  badge  of  their  tribe,  and  idleness  and  crime  results  of  their 
conditii>n. 

Wc  remained  in  the  city  until  Saturday  afternoon^  when  our 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AxMERICAN.  Sd 

passengers  returned  to  the  ship.  Every  arrangement  having 
been  completed,  the  anchor  was  hove  up,  and  by  sunset  the 
Lafayette  was  once  more  laying  her  course  for  the  port  of  her 
destination.  Forts  Caroline  and  Camden  were  passed,  and  before 
the  long  summer  twilight  had  faded  out,  we  were  again  upon  the 
ocean,  and  out  of  sight  of  miserable,  sunken^  and  forlorn  Ire- 
land. 

In  the  previous  pages  I  have  described  what  I  saw  in  Ireland, 
and  that  in  language  suited  to  the  subject.  Some  readers  may 
condemn  the  tone,  and  deem  it  harsh  ;  but  the  case  warranted  it, 
and  I  have  no  apology  to  make.  Human  misery  never  delighted 
me.  My  sympathies  are  with  the  poor  and  the  downtrodden  of 
the  human  race,  no  matter  where  they  dwell,  or  what  their 
country  or  complexion.  A  mere  description  of  the  wretchedness 
and  misery  of  the  poverty-stricken  and  crushed,  as  given  by  an 
observer,  is  not  an  evidence  of  ill  feeling  towards  them  on  his 
part ;  nor  must  it  be  so  considered.  My  sketch  of  the  lower  class 
of  Irish,  as  I  saw  them,  is  correct,  and  I  appeal  to  those  who 
were  with  me  for  proof  of  the  assertion.  It  is  written  to  convey 
to  American  readers,  as  near  as  a  pen  and  ink  picture  can,  an 
idea  of  the  actual  condition  of  the  Irish  poor.  We  see  much 
misery  in  the  United  States  among  the  immigrants  from  the  Eme- 
rald Isle;  but  we  do  not  see  Irish  wretchedness  in  its  worst  form, 
and  Heaven  forbid  we  ever  should  !  That  people  have  been  the 
subject  of  remark  for  years;  their  condition  has  been  commented 
upon,  by  friends  and  foes,  each  of  whom  assigns  a  reason  fgr  their 
degradation;  but  it  must  be  confessed  that  few  have  sought  to 
better  their  circumstances.  Philanthropists  have  made  attempts 
to  alleviate  their  distress,  but  never  succeeded  to  any  great  extent, 
for  several  reasons:  one  of  which  is  that  they  have  never  yet  laid 
the  axe  at  the  root  of  the  evil.  They  merely  apply  the  remedy 
to  the  surface,  and  fail  to  touch  the  seat  of  disease.  Each  set  of 
philanthropists  acts  according  to  its  views  of  the  case,  and  as  each 
views  the  Irish  with  a  sectarian's  eye,  each  effects  nothing.  I  do 
not  pretend  to  say  that  Catholicism  either  degrades  or  elevates 
the  people  of  Ireland;  but  I  do  say  that  no  reforms  will  ever  be 


40  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

effected  among  them  by  those  who  run  counter  to  their  religious 
notions.  The  best  means  of  raising  them  from  their  present  con- 
dition is  education.  Teach  them  to  regard  themselves  as  human 
beings,  and  create  in  them  feelings  of  self-respect  and  manly  inde- 
pendence, and  more  good  will  be  effected  among  them  than  all  the 
relief  you  can  give  them  against  physical  want.  But  few  of  them 
at  home  possess  a  spark  of  manliness;  but  so  soon  as  they  reach 
countries  where  they  are  treated  by  the  respectable  and  intelli- 
gent as  human  beings,  so  soon  do  they  become  different  in  every 
respect,  and  stand  forth  men.  Much  of  their  servility  is  attribu- 
table to  the  manner  in  which  what  they  are  pleased  to  call  their 
superiors  treat  them;  and  so  long  as  the  educated  and  wealthy  of 
Ireland  continue  to  look  upon  their  poor  as  little  better  than  swine, 
and  treat  them  like  spiritless  animals,  only  to  be  spurned,  so  long 
will  their  country  be  full  of  beggars  and  sunken  humanity.  They 
complain  loudly  at  times  of  oppression  on  the  part  of  the  govern- 
ment, and  poetically  deplore  the  condition  of  their  less  fortunate 
countrymen ;  but  such  expressions  will  not  produce  reform.  They 
ghould  act,  and  not  bewail — educate,  and  not  keep  in  ignorance ; 
and  the  change  would  soon  be  observed.  The  mendicant  would 
become  industrious,  the  peasant  intelligent,  and  the  people  happy. 
IViestcraft  would  lose  its  hold,  and  rational  religion  take  the  place 
of  bigotry  and  stultified  adoration  of  forms  and  pageants.  The 
Irish  are  susceptible  of  improvement;  and  all  that  is  required  to 
prove  the  fact  is  to  try  them.  They  arc  not  deficient  in  intellect, 
nor  aptness  for  learning,  and  if  they  were  properly  educated,  they 
would  be  equal  to  the  best  of  the  English  peasantry,  come  from 
where  they  will.  Philanthropists  should  establish  schools,  and 
Irish  gentlemen  should  treat  their  poor  fellow-countrymen  as  if 
they  were  men,  not  brutes — beings  endowed  with  the  same  facul- 
ties as  themselves ;  and  between  the  two  cla.sses  they  would  soon 
produce  a  reform  in  the  degraded  that  would  bo  lasting  and  won- 
derful. Ages  must  elapse  under  the  present  state  of  things 
before  the  lower  Irish  can  bo  raised  to  a  position  of  respectability, 
or  oven  decency. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  41 


CHAPTEE    III. 

LIVERPOOL. 

With  a  calm  sea,  and  pleasant  breeze,  our  ship  made  rapid  pro- 
gress during  the  night  and  following  Sabbath,  and  by  sundown  of 
that  day  we  discovered  land  immediately  ahead,  which  was  ascer- 
tained to  be  Bardsey  Island,  the  western  extremity  of  Whales.  The 
ship  was  kept  on  her  course  during  the  night,  but  great  care  exer- 
cised in  consequence  of  the  danger  of  the  navigation,  and  at  an 
early  hour  on  Monday  morning  an  English  pilot  came  on  board. 
We  ran  up  the  channel  and  bay,  passing  the  Isle  of  Anglesey, 
and  the  northern  coast  of  Wales  in  full  sight.  The  shores  were 
not  so  precipitous  as  those  of  Ireland,  nor  were  they  so  productive; 
but  there  were  more  houses,  and  the  appearance  of  greater  com- 
fort about  the  dwellings.  We  rapidly  neared  the  port  of  Liver- 
pool, and  passed  Bell  Buoy,  a  floating  boat  supporting  a  frame, 
on  which  is  placed  a  large  bell,  so  situated  as  to  toll  constantly 
by  the  action  of  the  waves,  and  so  powerful  in  tone  as  to  be  heard, 
in  favorable  winds,  a  distance  of  five  miles.  Black-rock  light 
came  into  view  next,  and  then  the  grim  town,  so  famous  the  world 
over  for  its  foreign  trade  and  massive  docks.  By  mid-day  the  ship 
was  abreast  of  her  haven  of  rest,  announcing  her  arrival  with  her 
own  guns.  The  tide  was  up,  we  ran  along-side  a  dock  at  once, 
and  our  luggage  was  taken  to  the  custom-house,  where  it  was  ex- 
amined by  a  gentlemanly  set  of  oflScers  in  a  few  minutes;  none  of 
the  passengers  being  annoyed  in  the  least  by  unnecessary  scrutiny 
or  close  searching.  Those  who  cheerfully  and  willingly  opened 
their  trunks,  and  exhibited  a  desire  to  have  their  luggage  ex- 
amined, were  permitted  to  pass  without  the  slightest  detention ; 
while  those  who  gave  evasive  answers  were  made  to  pay  duty  for 
such  articles  as  were  excisable.  I  was  asked  whether  there  was 
anything  contraband  in  my  trunks,  and  thipking  it  best  to  bo 


42  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

honest,  I  candidly  told  the  ofl&cer  that  there  were  some  articles  on 
which  I  believed  there  was  duty,  and  gave  him  my  keys  to  examine. 
He  made  a  very  slight  search,  and  took  some  books  and  daguerreo- 
types out;  but  as  the  latter  were  presents,  and  the  former  American 
works,  all  were  returned  me  without  revenue  being  exacted.  The 
ofl&cers  were  a  gentlemanly,  obliging,  and  friendly  set  of  men,  and 
were  remarkably  lenient  to  those  who  frankly  told  them  what  the 
contents  of  their  trunks  were ;  but  to  those  who  tried  to  evade 
the  customs,  they  were  scrupulously  exact.  A  clergyman  of  our 
company,  when  asked,  stated  that  he  had  neither  tobacco  nor 
cigars;  but  as  his  teeth  bore  evidence  that  he  used  the  weed, 
search  was  made,  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  the  Virginia  pro- 
duct found.  He  attempted  an  excuse,  but  it  was  too  late;  the 
officials  were  not  disposed  to  be  deceived,  and  confiscated  his  stock, 
with  a  gentle  hint  that  he  was  fortunate  to  escape  so  easily,  and 
an  intimation  that  he  had  better  cease  from  lying,  as  it  would  be 
more  creditable  to  him  as  a  follower  of  Christ.  He  was  an  Eng- 
lishman, and  grew  a  little  surly  with  her  majesty's  servants,  in 
consequence  of  the  rebuke,  concluding  that  it  was  not  their  duty 
to  lecture  him,  as  well  as  deprive  him  of  his  tobacco.  If  he  had 
been  truthful,  there  would  not  have  been  a  cigar  lost  to  him ;  but 
as  it  was,  he  justly  lost  all.  I  am  aware  that  English  custom- 
house officers  are  greatly  condemned,  but  do  not  believe  them 
always  censurable.  They  are  often  sorely  tried,  and  some  persons 
practise  great  deception  upon  them,  which  makes  them  scrutiniae 
closely ;  but  where  a  person  acts  towards  them  in  a  gentlemanly 
way,  he  seldom  finds  them  either  exacting  or  very  inquisitive. 

Ijivcrpool,  with  a  population  of  nearly  half  a  million  inhabit- 
ants, with  a  foreign  commerce  greater  than  that  of  any  other  city 
except  London,  and  a  mercantile  marine  varied  and  strange,  seldom 
or  ever  receives  from  the  traveller  more  than  a  cold  remark  about 
her  extensive  docks,  or  a  slight  mention  of  the  enormous  draught- 
horses  which  bear  her  name.  Why  this  is  so,  is  remarkable,  and 
can  only  be  accounted  for  from  the  fact  that  those  who  embark 
there  for  foreign  ports  have  mostly  visited  cities  richer  in  ancient 
monuments  and  historical  associations,  and  being  on  the  eve  of  a 
long  and  perilous  voyage,  occupy  their  minds  with  speculations  on 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  43 

the  future,  instead  of  turning  their  attention  to  the  attractions 
around  them;  while  those  who  come  from  the  American  side  of 
the  Atlantic  see  a  city  overhung  with  an  atmosphere  of  smoke, 
and  take  the  earliest  opportunity  of  getting  away  from  it,  and 
flying  to  the  goal  of  their  destination,  London  or  Paris. 

Liverpool  does  not  deserve  such  treatment  from  all,  and  to  those 
who  are  fond  of  looking  at  the  excitement  and  bustle  of  business, 
it  has  many  attractions.  Let  the  stranger  take  the  arm  of  his 
companion,  and  slowly  stroll  along  the  streets  adjacent  to  the  docks, 
occasionally  entering  one,  and  he  will  find  sufficient  to  amuse  him 
for  days.  There  he  will  see  the  representatives  of  almost  every 
nation  on  earth,  and  a  greater  variety  of  the  genus  homo  than  in 
any  other  city,  not  excepting  New  Orleans.  Throngs  of  h'ish 
immigrants,  on  their  way  to  the  land  of  their  brightest  hopes, 
America,  meet  him  at  every  turn ;  while  Germans  and  French, 
Hollanders  and  Swedes,  Spaniards  and  Italians,  Jews  and  Gentiles 
cross  him  in  his  rambles  and  jostle  him  in  the  highways.  Among 
the  natives  of  the  Isle  of  Great  Britain  he  finds  innumerable 
and  nameless  representatives  from  the  Highlander,  with  his  half 
savage  dress,  to  the  Welshman  and  Yorkshireman,  with  their 
broad  and  peculiar  dialect.  He  sees  hundreds  of  poor,  bare- 
footed women,  and  thousands  of  well-clad  merchants.  Soldiers 
and  sailors,  policemen  and  beggars,  strangers  and  sharpers,  pass 
and  repass  him  as  he  roams  her  avenues.  All  is  excitement, 
hurry,  and  confusion.  A  smoky  atmosphere  and  the  heavy 
clouds  which  hang  over  the  city  give  a  dingy  aspect  to  the  walls 
and  houses,  but  a  day  or  two  will  make  him  more  familiar  with 
the  place,  and  then  he  will  see  much  to  admire  and  much  to  con- 
demn. The  docks  are  the  first  objects  of  interest,  and  the  stranger 
will  cheerfully  award  them  their  due.  One  of  them  is  a  picture  of 
all,  and  there  can  be  seen  the  productions  of  every  section  of  the 
world  known  to  commercial  men  since  "  the  Celt  knew  the  Indian.'' 
The  American  notices  with  pride  (and  a  commendable  pride  it  is), 
foremost  among  all,  the  products  of  his  native  land.  Countless 
bales  of  the  great  staple  of  the  South,  thousands  of  barrels  of  pork 
from  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  hills  of  Indian  corn  in  sacks 
from  every  portion  of  the  Union,  large  quantities  of  sugar  and 


molasses,  and  cargoes  of  American  timber,  bear  witeess  to  the 
extensive  trade  carried  on  between  Liverpool  and  the  Republic  of 
the  Western  World ;  while  vessels  from  Egypt  and  Turkey,  Arabia 
and  China,  the  Brazils  and  llindostan,  lie  side  by  side  in  her  docks, 
giving  evidence  of  the  peaceful  tendencies  of  commerce.  Large 
numbers  of  American  liners,  those  beautiful  productions  of  the 
skill  of  our  ship-builders,  find  a  haven  in  the  secure  and  sub- 
stantial basins  for  which  she  stands  pre-eminent.  Small  craft  in 
abundance  are  there;  and  strongly  built  iron  steamers,  in  fleets, 
ply  from  her  quays  to  the  seaports  of  the  neighboring  islands, 
the  Mediterranean,  and  the  far  shores  of  the  Atlantic.  Every 
hour  during  the  day  there  is  an  arrival  from  some  foreign  country, 
and  not  a  day  goes  down  without  witnessing  a  score  of  departures 
for  distant  sections  of  the  world.  From  her  docks  the  blood-red 
flag  of  haughty  Albion  has  been  borne  to  every  section  of  the 
navigable  globe,  and  she  has  sent  out  commercial  fleets  which 
would  put  to  the  blush  the  proudest  navies  of  the  continental 
powers.  And  yet  for  all  this  the  stranger  finds  nothing  in  Liver- 
pool worthy  his  time  and  attention ! 

The  streets  are  mostly  irregular,  short,  and,  like  John  Bull  in 
many  things,  awry.  But  some  of  them  are  handsome.  Take  for 
instance  Lord  Street,  with  its  imposing  buildings,  its  rows  of 
shops,  and  its  broad  and  well-paved  way;  Dale  Street,  Church 
Street,  and  Castle  Street,  all  abound  in  large  and  beautiful  edi- 
fices. The  exchange,  "where  merchants  most  do  congregate,"  is 
an  attractive  pile;  and  there  is  one  of  the  best  bronze  allegorical 
groups  that  meets  the  eye  of  the  artist  in  any  section  of  tho 
globe.  It  is  erected  to  the  memory  of  Lord  Nelson.  The  Cus- 
tom House  and  Sailor's  Home  are  beautiful  architectural  cffort.s, 
and  would  bo  considered  lions  in  an  American  city.  St.  George's 
Hall  is  one  of  the  largest  and  most  harmonious  buildings  in  its 
proportions  in  the  kingdom.  The  railway  stations  arc  splendid, 
and  stand  in  broad  contrast  with  the  passenger  depots  of  the  rail- 
roads in  tho  United  States.  The  hotels,  although  not  so  large  or 
80  fine  as  tho  American,  are  good,  and  some  of  them  are  not  de- 
void of  external  beauty. 

Tho  inhabitants  aro  divided  into  two  classes,  rich  and  poor. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  45 

The  rich  are  generally  pompous,  self-sufficient,  proud,  and  over- 
bearing to  those  they  regard  as  inferiors,  and  courteous  and  affable 
to  their  equals.  The  poor  are  a  servile,  crouching  race  to  their 
employers,  or  masters,  as  they  are  called,  and  most  ardently  at- 
tached to  the  queen.  Many  of  them  are  ignorant  and  degraded, 
and  live  but  little  better  than  paupers.  There  is  almost  as  much 
licentiousness  among  a  portion  of  the  female  poor  as  the  stranger 
observes  at  Cork ;  and  to  an  American,  such  exhibitions  as  are 
witnessed  in  Liverpool  are  revolting.  The  laborers  and  mechanics 
of  the  city  are  numerous,  and  are  generally  dressed  in  a  coarse, 
white  cotton  cloth,  which,  in  a  climate  so  cold,  looks  uncomfort- 
able. There  is  but  little  intelligence  among  them,  and  although 
the  trade  and  communication  between  the  United  States  and 
Liverpool  is  so  extensive,  the  majority  of  the  working  classes 
have  no  correct  geographical  ideas  of  our  country,  and  speak  of 
New  York  as  the  whole  of  America. 

The  most  remarkable  feature  of  Liverpool  is  the  fact  that  there 
is  not  a  single  daily  newspaper  published  in  the  city.  With  a 
population  of  nearly  five  hundred  thousand,  and  a  commerce  so 
great  as  to  reach  every  section  of  the  world,  this  place  cannot 
boast  one  daily  paper  !  while  San  Francisco,  a  city  of  but  four 
years'  growth,  issues  seven.  The  London  Times,  during  the 
great  Exhibition,  sneered  at  the  sorry  appearance  of  the  penny 
dailies  then  in  the  "  glass  palace ;"  but  the  writer  forgot  the  vast 
power  wielded  by  those  little  sheets  in  the  United  States — a 
power  which  may  some  day  be  felt  in  England. 

The  enormous  dray-horses  of  the  city  are  great  curiosities  to 
the  American  traveller,  both  as  regards  size  and  their  wonderful 
powers.  I  have  seen  them  full  seven  feet  and  a  half  high,  and 
some  even  higher  than  that.  Many  of  them  are  twice  as  large  as  a 
draught-horse  with  us,  and  they  look  like  young  elephants  when 
moving  along  the  street.  The  wagons  to  which  they  are  attached 
are  great  clumsy  platforms,  supported  by  four  ponderous  wheels, 
the  whole  sufficiently  heavy  for  two  of  our  horses  without  the  ad- 
dition of  a  load ;  and,  incredible  as  it  may  appear,  it  is  not  an 
unusual  thing  to  see  two  of  these  animals  drawing  such  a  machine, 
with  as  many  as  thirty  bales  of  cotton  piled  upon  it.     Their 


46  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

movements  are  slow ;  and  it  is  more  than  likely  that  two  of  our 
small  horses  would  do  quite  as  much  work  in  a  day,  drawing 
lighter  loads,  as  two  of  the  Liverpool  horses  perform,  and  at  a 
much  less  cost. 

In  contrast  to  the  dray-horse  stands  the  donkey — a  numerous 
class  in  Liverpool.  Many  of  them  are  not  larger  than  a  setter- 
dog,  and  you  will  see  one  drawing  a  cart  three  times  as  large  as 
himself,  with  a  great  lubberly  clown  in  addition  to  the  ordinary 
load.  They  are  the  only  draught  animals  not  taxed,  and  on  that 
account  are  used  mostly  by  the  poor ;  in  many  instances  being 
the  sole  support  of  an  entire  family.  They  are  a  miserable  set  of 
brutes,  and  the  masters  often  look  more  brutal  and  iuhumau  than 
the  donkeys. 

There  are  many  other  things  worthy  of  note  in  and  about 
Liverpool,  not  the  least  striking  of  which  are  the  windmills  in  the 
vicinity.  The  broad  arms  of  these  strange  edifices  are  whirled 
around  by  the  passing  breeze,  and  as  they  cut  and  slash  the  air, 
bring  to  the  traveller's  mind  the  gallant  exploits  of  Don  Quixote 
and  his  doughty  squire. 

But  enough  of  the  great  seaport  of  Lancashire  !  I  leave  its 
mud  and  filth,  tall,  ungainly  warehouses,  and  motley  throng,  to 
be  described  by  others,  and  turn  once  more  to  our  ill-fated  ship. 
I  went  down  to  her  before  leaving  the  town,  and  how  chan*;ed  ! 
The  cargo  had  been  discharged,  the  passengers  were  all  gune,  and 
the  cabin,  so  lately  the  abode  of  a  cheerful  and  social  company  of 
warm-hearted  friends,  was  silent  and  deserted.  Tho.sc  who  had 
crossed  the  great  deep  in  that  splendid  saloon  had  separated,  each 
to  his  destination,  and  probably  never  to  meet  again.  But  friend- 
ships were  formed  there  bright  and  holy  ;  friendships  that  will  be 
cherished  until  the  last  hour  of  existence;  and  though  fate  estrange 
the  wanderers,  time  cannot  efface  from  memory  the  pleasures  en- 
joyed in  each  other's  company,  or  the  feelings  of  happiness  which 
the  recollections  of  the  voyage  recall  to  mind. 

Occasionally,  since  then,  I  have  met  with  one  of  ray  fellow- 
voyagers,  and  such  meetings  have  always  been  seasons  of  un- 
feigned happiness.  The  old  ship  is  generally  a  stibject  of  inquiry, 
aud^  as  her  fate  may  interest  the  reader^  I  give  it  here.     Uu  her 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  47 

return-voyage  she  ran  down  a  brig,  and  sunk  her — put  into  New 
York  for  repairs — sailed  from  thence  to  Chagres,  where  she  caught 
fire,  and  was  burned  to  the  water's  edge,  and  sank  to  rise  no 
more.  She  was  what  the  sailors  call  ''  an  unlucky  craft,"  and 
her  end  was  in  character  with  her  performances  from  the  first — 
unfortunate  ! 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MANCHESTER  AND  ITS  VICINITY. 

Tired  of  Liverpool,  and  anxious  for  a  change  of  scenery,  I  left 
the  dingy  seaport  "  by  rail/'  and,  after  passing  through  the  dark 
and  gloomy  tunnel  which  extends  from  Lime  Street  Station  to 
Edgehill,  emerged  into  the  light  of  a  perfect  day  and  a  clear 
atmosphere,  beyond  the  limits  of  the  famous  town.  It  was  de- 
lightful to  behold  once  more  the  green  fields  and  bright  sky,  and 
my  eyes,  for  the  first  time,  took  in  the  glories  of  an  English  land- 
scape. Yes !  there  it  was,  before  me,  the  rural  charm  of  our 
fatherland.  But  a  single  glance  was  allowed  ;  the  train  did  not 
stop  long  at  any  one  station,  and  I  was  obliged  to  be  content  with 
a  gleam  of  the  sweet  prospect.  Hedgerows  lined  the  fields ;  tall 
oaks  reared  their  majestic  forms  to  the  skies;  white  cottages 
peeped  out  from  ivy  and  clustered  leaves ;  and  the  landscape 
looked  a  very  garden.  The  tall  spires  of  the  village  churches, 
and  the  large  mansions  of  the  wealthy,  came  rapidly  in  sight, 
and  then  passed  by,  leaving  upon  my  mind  their  impress,  clear 
and  inefi"aceable,  for  they  were  types  of  Old  England,  and  spoke 
of  the  ancient  day,  and  I  gloried  in  beholding  them.  The  train 
whirled  us  on,  on,  past  hamlet  and  town,  through  tunnel  and 
farm,  over  viaduct  and  moor ;  but  nearly  the  whole  distance  was 
pleasant  to  the  view.  The  ground,  at  the  sides  of  the  rail, 
was  under  cultivation  from  the  hedges  and  walls  down  to  the  very 
track ;  and  at  the  stations  there  were  garden-patches,  in  which 


48  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIOnWAY  J 

roses  and  other  favorite  flowers  grew  luxuriantly,  and  distilled 
upon  the  air  their  sweetness.  And  this,  thought  I,  is  England ; 
and  this  velvet-grass,  and  these  broad  fields,  and  those  neat  cot- 
tages and  magnilicent  parks,  are  the  charms  which  draw  the  Ame- 
rican across  the  angry  waters,  that  he  may  feast  his  eyes  on  them 
and  grow  familiar  with  the  beauty  of  his  ancestral  land  !  But 
my  poetic  reverie  was  doomed  to  end.  Rain  began  to  fall  fast  as 
we  approached  the  great  cotton  manufactory  of  the  realm,  and  I 
entered  Manchester  in  a  drenching  shower.  The  landscape  which 
so  recently  claimed  my  admiration  was  gone,  and  I  stood  alone  in 
one  of  the  filthiest  places  I  had  ever  placed  foot  into  up  to  that 
time.  Smoke  and  clouds  hung  over  the  town,  and  through  the 
veil  of  darkness  which  they  created  I  could  trace  indistinctly  the 
tall  chimneys  and  towering  forms  of  countless  cotton  factories.  A 
small  stream,  black  as  ink,  flowed  near  the  station  where  I  stood, 
and  the  earth  around  me  appeared  as  black  as  the  waters  of  the 
rill.  "  The  dark  and  the  light  side  of  the  picture  !"  mused  I ; 
"  we  cannot  expect  sunshine  and  flowers  always,  and  this  black 
scene  is  put  before  me  as  a  contrast  with  what  I  have  just 
been  enjoying  so  much.  Hope  and  despair !  the  country  and  the 
town !  The  pure  air  of  heaven  and  the  polluted  air  of  a  manu- 
facturing city  !  Let  me  see ;  I'll  cross  that  Styx,  and  look  into 
Hades  !" 

My  luggage  was  carefully  packed  away  in  the  "  office  for  left 
parcels" — a  very  great  convenience,  too,  is  that  office  to  travellers, 
if  they  happen  to  know  of  its  existence  ! — and  then  I  bade  adieu 
to  my  companion  of  the  trip,  a  gentleman  from  Savannah, 
whose  acquaintance  I  made  in  Liverpool,  and  plunged,  literally 
plunged,  into  Manchester.  Down  into  the  valley  of  the  foul 
stream,  across  its  gloomy  waters,  through  a  narrow  passage  be- 
tween two  massive  mills,  and  out  into  an  old,  odd-looking  street, 
with  houses  on  either  side,  whose  upper  story  hung  over  the 
footwalks  like  heavy  brows  over  the  eyes  of  a  guilty  man.  They 
were  gloomy  buildings,  and  appeared  to  frown  people  away,  to 
prevent  the  curious  making  examination  of  the  heart  within. 
I  passed  them  rapidly,  gazing  on  this  side  and  then  on  that,  at 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  *        49 

tilings  strange  and  quaint,  and  soon  gained  a  finer  thoroughfare, 
where  I  was  cordially  greeted,  in  true  Yankee  tone,  with 

"  How  are  you  now,  and  what  brought  you  here  ?  When  did 
you  leave  home  ?"  and  a  host  of  similar  questions,  to  all  of  which 
I  made  reply,  and  then  we  joined  company  and  rambled  on  to  my 
companion's  hotel,  in  which  I  took  up  my  temporary  abode  while 
in  Manchester. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  meet  an  old  friend  so  many  thousand  miles 
from  home,  and  that  so  unexpectedly  to  each,  and  we  enjoyed  the 
blessing  as  long  as  time  would  allow,  and  then  parted  as  suddenly 
as  we  met. 

A  week's  residence  afforded  me  opportunity  to  visit  the  most 
remarkable  localities,  and- become  acquainted,  to  a  certain  extent, 
with  the  habits  and  modes  of  life  of  the  working  population  of 
the  town.  My  entrance  into  Manchester  was  in  a  shower,  and 
my  final  departure  was  in  rain.  During  four  of  six  days,  while  I 
remained  there,  the  rain  fell  almost  constantly,  and  I  was  informed 
that  it  is  not  an  uncommon  circumstance  to  have  wet  weather 
five  out  of  seven  days. 

It  has  been  satisfactorily  ascertained  by  scientific  observation 
that  one-fifth  more  rain  falls  at  Manchester  during  a  twelvemonth 
than  in  any  other  part  of  England.  This  may  be  a  blessing 
rather  than  a  misfortune,  as  the  supply  of  water  for  the  immense 
manufactories  is  thus  kept  up,  and  thousands  of  poor  furnished 
with  employment. 

It  was  Whitsuntide,  the  manufacturers'  holiday  (or  week),  at  the 
time  of  this  visit.  The  greater  part  of  the  factories  were  stopped, 
the  populace  enjoying  themselves,  each  according  to  the  bent 
of  his  mind,  or  the  depth  and  fulness  of  his  purse.  Thousands 
had  gone  to  the  "  Great  Exhibition"  and  Paris,  while  great  num- 
bers were  on  trips  to  Ireland  or  Scotland,  or  some  other  equally 
attractive  part  of  the  kingdom,  then  ^  easily  reached  by  cheap 
excursions.  The  working  people,  however,  generally  remained  at 
home  for  want  of  funds  to  go  abroad;  and  as  they  are  the  ma- 
jority, Manchester  was  not  entirely  deserted. 

The  town  of  Manchester  is  of  great  antiquity,  its  history  being 
clearly  traced  to  the  times  of  the  Koman  power  in  Britain ;  but 
5 


60  JJIE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

its  rise  to  importance  is  owing  to  its  extensive  manufactories  of 
cotton,  mainly  erected  within  the  last  sixty  years.  According  to 
a  published  statement,  there  were,  in  1848,  about  1200  cotton- 
mills  in  the  district  of  which  Manchester  is  the  chief  town,  cm- 
ploying  35,000  horse  power  and  200,000  persons.  At  the  present 
time  it  is  next  to  impossible  for  a  person  to  obtain  the  correct 
number  of  factories  in  either  the  city  proper  or  the  adjacent 
districts.  I  made  exertions  to  gain  reliable  information,  but 
failed  in  every  instance;  not,  however,  from  an  unwillingness  to 
impart  the  information  on  the  part  of  those  to  whom  I  applied, 
but  because  no  one  knew.  The  ignorance  of  the  people  on  the 
commonest  affairs  is  surprising.  It  is  characteristic  not  only  of  the 
poor,  but  of  those  who  ought  to  be  well  informed.  You  ask  the 
plainest  question,  to  which  a  boy  in  the  United  States  would  make 
a  ready  reply,  and  there  is  a  positive  certainty  that  the  answer 
will  be,  "I  don't  know." 

The  large  cotton  factories  were  objects  of  particular  interest, 
and,  through  the  kindness  and  influence  of  some  friends  resident 
in  Manchester,  I  was  shown  through  several  from  the  ground  floor 
to  the  topmost  story.  The  machinery  was  mostly  old,  and  by  no 
means  so  well  finished  as  that  made  in  the  United  States.  The 
new  that  came  under  my  notice  was  not  much  of  an  i^iprovement 
upon  the  old,  although  cleaner  and  better  in  appearance.  The 
process  of  manufacturing  cotton  into  fine  numbers  is  different  from 
the  system  followed  in  America,  but  mainly  in  the  number  of 
times  the  cotton  is  doubled  in  the  machinery  and  the  number  of 
frames  it  passes  through.  The  rooms,  from  the  cardingroom  up, 
are  heated  to  about  70  degrees  temperature,  which  is  constant, 
and  must  be  injurious  to  the  persons  employed.  The  raw  mate- 
rial is  first  run  through  a  machine  known  as  the  "devil,"  after 
which  it  goes  through  the  spreader.  It  next  passes  through  four 
diff'erent  sets  of  carJs,  about  eighteen  inches  in  width,  with  small 
cylinders,  and  no  workers  or  strippers,  but  the  old-fashioned  flats. 
After  going  through  the  cards,  it  is  doubled  again  four  times  and 
run  through  the  same  number  of  drawing-frames,  doubling  at  each 
one.  The  frames  have  four  heads,  and  are  similar  to  those  used 
in  the  United  States.     From  the  drawing-frames  it  is  taken  to 


51 

■what  are  called  jack-frames,  where  it  is  again  doubled  four  times 
and  run  through  but  one  machine,  after  which  it  is  spun  into  cops 
on  a  mule;  from  whence  the  yarn  is  taken  to  a  doubling-frame, 
doubled  twice,  passing  (in  its  course  through  the  frame)  through 
water,  and,  in  some  cases,  through  a  blaze  of  gas-light.  The  next 
process  is  to  reel  it  into  hanks,  after  which  it  is  sent  to  Notting- 
ham and  woven  into  lace. 

The  mules  are  the  same  as  those  in  use  twenty  years  ago,  the 
only  difference  being  the  wheel- head  in  the  centre,  and  the  num- 
ber of  spindles ;  some  of  them  containing  as  many  as  six  hundred 
and  forty.  The  doubling-frames  resemble  the  Danforth  frames  in 
some  respects,  and  are  an  improvement  on  the  old  throstle.  They 
serve  the  purpose  of  speeders,  but  do  not  twist  the  thread  so  hard 
as  the  Danforth  frame.  They  are  generally  large,  and  contain  as 
many  as  five  hundred  spindles,  which  are  run  at  a  great  velocity, 
frequently  making  four  thousand  revolutions  per  minute. 

In  the  weaving  departments  which  I  visited,  men  were  princi- 
pally employed,  although  this  is  not  universally  so.  Women  are 
engaged  in  a  great  many  of  the  factories  as  weavers  in  Manchester, 
and  in  the  United  States  it  is  their  exclusive  province  about  a 
factory  where  there  are  looms.  That  which  attracted  my  attention 
most  was  the  rapid  movement  of  the  shuttle,  which  makes  as  many 
as  130  picks  in  a  minute  on  coarse  fabrics,  and  as  high  as  200  on 
finer  goods.  The  wages  of  those  engaged  in  the  factories  are  low. 
Men  employed  at  weaving  on  power-looms  earn  from  9  to  18 
shillings  per  week,  or  from  $2.16  to  $4.32,  but  the  average  is  not 
more  than  12  shillings,  or  $2.96,  out  of  which  many  of  them  support 
families.  One  pound,  or  about  $4.80  of  our  currency,  per  week, 
is  considered  very  good  pay  for  a  man  engaged  in  mule-spinning 
or  carding.  The  difiereut  branches  of  mechanical  labor  do  not 
yield  more  than  that  sum  per  week  the  year  round,  with  constant 
work.  There  are  some  cases  where  men  in  higher  positions  re- 
ceive as  high  as  from  $7  to  $10  weekly,  but  those  instances  are 
rare. 

The  working  people  of  the  town  live  in  small  two-story  houses, 
generally  located  near  the  factories.  The  domiciles  I  visited  did  not 
present  an  attractive  appearance,  either  outside  or  inside.     The 


52  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

lower  floors  arc  of  stone,  that  material  being  cheaper  than  wood. 
The  usual  furniture  of  the  houses  of  the  mechanics  is  a  bureau,  a 
table  or  two,  a  few  chairs,  and  sometimes  a  carpet,  and  one  or 
more  pictures,  on  the  first  floor.  The  bedrooms  are  without  car- 
pets, but,  in  other  respects,  pretty  well  provided.  But  few  of  the 
houses  have  more  than  three  rooms,  one  down  and  two  up  stairs. 
The  rents  are  low,  compared  with  the  prices  paid  in  cities  in  the 
United  States  for  buildings  on  streets;  the  sum  varying  from  two 
shillings  and  sixpence  to  five  shillings  per  week,  to  which  must 
be  added  "rates  and  taxes,'*'  claims  the  tenants  are  always  obliged 
to  pay,  and  which  generally  add  considerably  to  the  original 
amount. 

The  condition  of  the  mechanics  and  laborers  in  and  around 
Manchester  is  far  from  enviable.  Their  wages  are  low,  and  in 
many  instances  scarcely  sufficient  to  obtain  the  necessaries  of  life, 
and  never  enough  to  allow  them  to  indulge  in  luxuries,  without 
causing  privation  and  want.  The  greater  part  of  the  generation 
just  arrived  at  maturity  are  indifi'erently  educated,  numbers  of 
them  being  unable  to  read  and  write.  Their  leisure  hours  are 
passed  at  ale-houses,  and  it  is  not  an  unusual  thing  to  see  women 
and  men  sitting  together  in  those  places  around  a  table,  sipping 
gin.  Great  reformations  have  been  effected  among  the  persons 
engaged  in  the  mills  by  the  active  exertions  of  the  members  of 
the  different  temperance  societies,  but  they  have  not  as  yet  suc- 
ceeded in  inducing  women  to  shun  the  gin-palaces.  In  the  United 
States,  where  woman  is  looked  up  to  as  a  gentle  and  sinless  being, 
too  pure  for  crime,  such  assemblages  are  never  seen,  nor  can  an 
American  imagine  how  they  can  exist;  but  in  Kugland,  where 
women  are  held  in  less  estinmtion  than  with  us,  such  exhibitions 
as  above  described  are  frequent  and  common,  and  but  few  think 
it  either  wrong  or  disgraceful. 

Many  women  are  employed  in  the  factories,  and  those  who  have 
small  cliildren,  and  are  compelled  to  work  in  the  mills,  generally 
leave  their  infants  in  institutions  which  abound  in  Manchester, 
where  they  are  kept,  during  the  time  the  mothers  arc  employed, 
for  a  small  sum  per  day. 

There  are  several  Mechanics'  Institutes  in  the  town,  places 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  53 

where  lectures  are  delivered  to  the  working  classes  on  popular 
subjects,  and  to  which  libraries  are  attached  for  the  benefit  of 
mechanics  and  their  families.  But  these  places  are  not  accessible 
to  all,  and  numbers  of  those  who  are  able  to  read,  but  who  cannot 
or  will  not  attend  such  institutions,  ponder  over  works  of  fiction 
of  a  doubtful  and  immoral  tendency,  now  published  in  London  in 
large  quantities,  in  pamphlets  of  six  or  eight  pages,  and  sold 
extensively  throughout  the  provinces,  at  one  penny  per  number. 
Newspapers  are  few  and  expensive ;  consequently,  the  poor,  both 
from  inclination  and  want  of  funds,  take  no  papers,  and  read  the 
penny  publications,  because  they  are  cheap  and  entertaining. 

Since  the  passage  of  a  law  by  Parliament,  imposing  a  fine  upon 
masters  for  employing  children  under  thirteen  years  of  age,  but 
few  young  persons  are  seen  about  the  factories,  and  such  as  are 
met  with  bear  both  a  healthy  and  contented  appearance.  The 
rising  generation  is  better  educated  than  the  preceding  one,  and 
there  is  a  fair  prospect  that  great  permanent  good  will  result  from 
the  law. 

A  stranger  in  England  sees  many  things  which  attract  his 
attention  for  a  time,  but  which,  as  they  come  before  him  con- 
stantly, are  soon  forgotten,  or  passed  without  notice.  On  first 
landing,  he  is  struck  with  the  ruddy  complexion  of  the  inhabit- 
ants, and  the  general  beauty  of  the  women.  A  pale  and  delicate 
female  is  seldom  seen;  but  why  is  not  so  plain,  since  so  much  is 
said  about  the  seamstresses  and  needle-women  of  England.  Per- 
haps they  are  kept  so  close  at  work  that  they  never  get  abroad, 
and  therefore  are  rarely  met.  The  factory  girls  of  Manchester 
do  not  look  so  well  as  the  same  class  in  America,  so  far  as  regards 
dress  and  cleanliness,  but  their  cheeks  wear  a  ruddier  glow,  and 
their  general  appearance  is  healthful.  One  other  curiosity,  if  it 
may  so  be  called,  are  clogs,  or  shoes  with  wooden  soles.  These 
are  the  clumsiest  things  imaginable,  and  the  best  things  to  cripple 
feet  ever  worn.  In  Manchester,  they  are  used  quite  extensively, 
and  it  is  co.nmon  to  see  little  children  running  over  the  pavement 
with  the  heavy  things  attached  to  their  feet,  and  making  a  clat- 
tering noise.  The  soles  are  always  a  half  inch  thick,  and  in  many 
eases  much  more  than  that.     Large  heavy  boots  are  worn  by  the 

5* 


54 

men,  which  are  full  of  great  hob-nails,  with  heads  a  quarter  of 
an  inch  in  width.  The  clatter  they  make  is  outrageous  when 
several  clowns  are  hurrying  over  the  pavements,  and  reminds  one 
of  a  drove  of  oxen  crossing  a  bridge. 

Black  smoke  in  clouds  constantly  hovers  over  Manchester,  at 
times  completely  confining  the  view  to  a  few  hundred  yards  like 
a  thick  fog.  The  air  is  filled  with  flying  particles  of  coal  from  the 
chimneys  of  the  manufactories,  and  the  stranger  finds  his  lineo, 
after  a  day's  wear,  as  black  as  it  would  be  should  he  wear  it  a 
week  in  any  town  in  the  United  States — Pittsburg  excepted.  The 
large  streets  are  lined  with  fine  stores,  and  there  are  several  public 
buildings  worthy  of  notice.  In  the  suburbs  there  are  numbers 
of  beautiful  villas,  the  residences  of  merchants  and  manufacturers 
of  the  city,  many  of  them  looking  like  fairy  palaces,  particularly 
those  on  London  Road,  Plymouth  Grove,  and  Balmoral  and  Roth- 
say  Places.  Here  the  air  is  pure,  the  sky  clear,  and  all  is  so  calm 
that,  if  the  stranger  did  not  really  know  it,  he  would  not  believe 
he  was  in  Manchester. 

In  company  with  two  young  men  belonging  to  the  cotton-mill 
of  England,  I  took  a  walk  through  the  adjacent  county  of  Ches- 
ter. As  soon  as  we  got  clear  of  the  city,  out  into  the  green 
lanes,  with  their  luxuriant  hedges,  where  we  could  breathe  the 
unpolluted  air,  our  senses  were  regaled  with  the  breath  of  flowers, 
and  cheered  with  the  song  of  the  lark.  On  our  journey  we 
strolled  through  the  old  town  of  Stockport,  which  lies  directly  in 
a  valley,  and  on  the  sides  of  hills  along  the  banks  of  the  Mersey, 
here  an  inconsiderable  ditch,  and  as  black  as  tar.  The  smoke  is 
abominable,  and  Stockport  has  the  reputation  of  being  both  the 
filthiest  and  the  most  moral  place  of  its  size  in  England.  The 
streets  are  steep  and  crooked,  the  dwellings  old  and  forbidding, 
and  the  cotton-mills  the  largest  in  the  kingdom.  We  left  the 
town,  and  turning  into  a  pleasant  lane,  strolled  leisurely  along  the 
river  for  several  miles,  visiting  in  our  rambles  some  beautiful  little 
villages.  The  Mersey  is  lined  with  embankments  on  both  sides, 
so  as  to  prevent  it  from  overflowing  the  meadows,  and,  in  conse- 
quence of  recent  rains,  was  high  then  and  very  rapid.    It  is  some 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  55 

fifty  yards  in  width,  and  winds  through  a  most  beautiful  country 
and  landscape  of  rich  fields  and  broad  meadows, 

"  Lovely  in  England's  fadeless  green." 

We  stopped  at  a  cottage  in  the  village  of  Didsbury  at  noon, 
where  we  were  hospitably  entertained  by  a  really  beautiful  girl  of 
eighteen  summers  or  more.  She  spoke  the  dialect  of  the  country, 
but,  objectionable  as  it  may  be  when  uttered  by  clowns,  it  is 
musical  when  articulated  by  a  pair  of  pouting  lips,  in  tones  of 
welcome  to  a  stranger.  She  was  intelligent  and  vivacious,  cheer- 
ful and  entertaining ;  and  when  she  learned  where  I  was  from, 
she  was  all  life  and  joy. 

"Ay!  I  have  a  brother  there,  and  I  would  so  like  to  see  him. 
If  s  six  years  since  he  left  us,  and  I  was  but  a  lass  then ;  but  I 
remember  him  well,  and  would  go  miles  to  meet  him  once  more. 
Poor  Jack !     You  probably  know  him  ?" 

She  stood  before  me  as  she  uttered  the  interrogation,  and  the 
dews  of  affection  moistened  her  blue  eye  as  she  gazed  anxiously 
into  my  face,  awaiting  my  answer.  She  looked  as  sisters  only 
look  when  inquiring  for  a  long  absent  and  favorite  brother  of  one 
who  may  have  seen  him;  and  when  I  informed  her  that  it  was  not 
my  pleasure  to  know  her  kinsman,  she  smiled  through  her  tears, 
and  said,  "  Even  if  you  do  not  know  him,  you  come  from  the  town 
in  which  he  lives,  and  that  is  a  consolation  that  I  am  happy  in. 
He  will  not  come  home,  I  fear,  and  I  would  go  to  America  to  see 
him,  if  it  were  not  for  the  ocean ;  but  that  would  not  be  still  for 
Canute,  and  I  know  it  will  not  be  calm  for  one  like  me.  So  I 
must  be  content  with  my  lot,  and  only  think  of  Jack.'' 

She  insisted  that  we  must  remain  and  dine,  and  set  to  work  pre- 
paring a  meal.  It  was  nearly  ready,  we  must  stay ;  the  weather 
was  warm,  we  required  rest  and  refreshment;  and,  more  than  all, 
an  elder  brother  would  soon  be  at  home,  and  I  must  see  him  for 
her  sake  and  Jack's.  I  could  not  resist  the  entreaty,  and  re- 
mained. The  time  passed  pleasantly,  the  fare  was  excellent,  and 
the  company  sociable  and  hospitable.  But  the  time  for  departure 
arrived,  and  I  bade  my  entertainers  adieu,  not,  however,  without 


50  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

promising  to  seek  the  wanderer,  when  I  returned  to  his  home  and 
mine. 

We  passed  through  the  old  village,  with  its  straw-roofed  cottages 
and  cheerful  street,  and  diverged  from  the  regular  road  into  a 
footpath  along  the  Mersey,  here  a  clear  arrowy  stream,  winding 
through  a  rich  agricultural  district,  a  walk  along  its  banks  being 
both  pleasant  and  healthful. 

We  had  frequent  opportunities  of  visiting  the  farms  along  the 
river,  and  enjoying  the  rich  scenery  of  the  vale  of  the  Mersey. 
The  air  was  clear  and  unpolluted,  and  the  song  of  the  skylark 
added  a  charm  to  the  rural  attractions  around.  The  meadows 
looked  as  though  they  were  covered  with  a  carpet  of  velvet, 
spangled  over  with  buttercups  and  daisies,  and  as  the  freshening 
breeze  swept  over  the  luxuriant  fields,  the  grass  and  flowers  gayly 
bent  their  heads  to  the  summer  winds.  The  hawthorn  hedges 
gave  out  their  incense,  while  countless  flowers  filled  the  air  with 
their  odors,  forming  an  atmosphere  in  strong  contrast  to  that  of 
the  slavish  manufacturing  towns  in  the  distance.  The  day  was 
passed  without  alloy;  and,  as  I  returned  to  Manchester,  the  long 
English  twilight  faintly  struggled  through  the  thick  veil  of  smoke 
which  overhangs  the  city.  'J'he  transition  from  the  pure  air  of 
the  country  to  the  thick  atmosphere  of  the  town  caused  me  to  sigh 
for  the  bright  sky,  the  green  fields,  and  healthful  air,  and,  being 
tired  of  Manchester,  I  bade  it  an  early  adieu. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SnEFFIELD^WIIARNCLlFPE  WOOD — CITATSWORTn. 

It  is  pleasant  sometimes  to  look  at  the  falling  rain  when  secure 
in  comfortable  quarters,  but  not  agreeable  to  be  in  it.  I  have 
already  said  that  Manchester  was  in  a  shower  when  I  entered,  and 
the  clouds  wore  pouring  their  contents  over  it  at  my  departure. 
It  was  my  original  intention  to  walk  from  the  great  manufacturing 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  57 

town  to  Sheffield,  but  in  consequence  of  continued  heavy  rains,  I 
abandoned  the  design  and  performed  the  journey  by  rail.  My 
travelling  companions  were  not  sociable,  nor  did  I  cultivate  their 
acquaintance  to  any  great  extent,  although  we  conversed  freely  at 
times. 

The  country  through  which  the  road  passes  is  broken,  and  not 
very  highly  cultivated.  There  are  many  ??plendid  scenes  on  the 
route,  and  several  large  forests,  one  of  them  the  most  extensive  in 
England.  It  is  the  scene  in  part  of  many  of  the  finest  portions 
of  Ivanhoe,  and  classic  ground  to  the  reader  of  Scott's  fascinating 
tales. 

At  a  place  called  Woodhead,  the  road  passes  through  a  tunnel 
nearly  three  miles  long,  one  end  of  which  is  in  Cheshire,  the  other 
in  Yorkshire.  It  is  cut  under  a  bleak  hilly  moor,  covered  with 
dark  heath  and  bogs,  and  was  six  years  in  course  of  construction. 
The  entire  work  is  walled  and  arched  with  excellent  masonry,  and 
presents  a  different  appearance  from  similar  engineering  efforts  in 
the  United  States. 

We  were  whirled  along  the  iron  way  at  a  rapid  rate,  now  on 
the  edge  of  a  splendid  valley,  now  through  a  deep  cut,  and  the 
next  moment  into  the  heart  of  a  waste  moorland.  On — on  crashed 
the  iron  courser,  with  terrible  speed,  leaving 

*'  Trees  behind  trees,  row  by  row, 
And  clift  by  clift." 

The  rain  beat  furiously  down,  the  engine  battled  it  bravely,  and 
after  two  hours'  strife  entered  the  station  at  the  city  of  cutlery, 
panting  and  impatient  for  another  encounter  with  the  elements. 

Sheffield  is  constantly  under  a  cloud  of  smoke  rising  from  its 
numerous  manufactories,  and,  as  it  is  situated  on  a  hill  with  an 
amphitheatre  of  hills  surrounding  it,  it  looks  like  the  crater  of  a 
burning  mountain.  The  streets  are  crooked  and  steep;  the  houses 
in  the  business  part  old  and  dingy;  and  for  the  first  few  days, 
the  stranger,  who  confines  himself  to  the  trading  portion  of  the 
town,  is  disposed  to  regard  it  in  anything  but  a  favorable  light. 
An  occasional  walk  into  the  neighboring  country  of  a  fine  day, 
and  a.  visit  to  the  suburban  part  of  the  city,  will  dissipate  much 


58  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

of  the  first  impression,  and  lead  the  visitor  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
beautiful  as  well  as  the  uninviting  features  of  the  town. 

The  working  population  is  among  the  worst  clothed  and  the 
most  cheerless  of  the  English  workmen.  A  large  number  of  the 
mechanics  are  employed  in  the  cutlery  establishments,  and  as 
wages  are  low  and  provisions  generally  high,  it  is  not  diflScult 
to  attribute  the  condition  of  the  people  to  the  right  cause.  In 
other  towns,  the  women  are  fresh  and  rosy  in  appearance,  while 
in  Sheffield  they  are  pale  and  sickly.  Drunkenness  is  common, 
and  '' Spirit  Vaults"  (a  name  for  rum-shops)  are  more  nume- 
rous than  in  any  other  provincial  town  of  the  same  number  of  in- 
habitants. The  wages  of  the  men  seldom  exceed  a  sovereign  per 
week,  and  often  fall  much  below  that  sum.  Those  who  labor  in 
the  coal-pits  are  exposed  to  danger  and  work  hard,  and  yet  their 
earnings  are  trifling.  Boys  are  employed  in  these  places  from 
the  tender  age  of  ten  years  up,  and  receive  but  a  paltry  pittance 
for  their  labor.  The  workmen,  in  all  the  concerns  where  motive 
power  is  required,  are  obliged  to  pay  out  of  their  earnings  a  cer- 
tain sum  per  week  for  the  use  of  the  same ;  and  if  a  man  spoils 
or  slightly  injures  an  article  while  it  is  in  his  hands,  he  is  ob- 
liged to  pay  for  it.  In  consequence  of  this  rule,  many  things  are 
thrown  upon  the  mechanic's  hands,  which  are  so  triflingly  soiled 
as  to  defy  the  closest  scrutiny  of  any  but  a  thorough  master  of  his 
business.  When  this  fact  is  known,  it  is  not  a  matter  of  sur- 
prise that  the  English  manufacturers  turn  out  good  work.  All 
the  bad  is  left  to  the  mechanic,  who  is  compelled  to  lose  his 
labor  and  pay  for  the  material.  Hero  there  are  the  broadest 
distinctions  between  master  and  man,  and  it  is  a  customary  thing 
to  hear  an  employer  call  his  working  people  his  servants. 

On  a  Saturday  evening,  the  markets  of  the  town  are  densely 
thronged  with  people,  and  there  a  person  can  see  the  working 
classes  to  the  best  advantage.  They  crowd  the  space  to  such  an 
extent  as  to  make  pcdcstrianism  almost  impossible,  and  till  it  till 
midnight.  That  may  be  designated  as  their  time  of  rest,  and 
then  they  breathe  the  air  of  freedom.  Men  with  their  wives 
plod  along  in  search  of  a  joint  for  their  Sunday  dinner,  and  select 


69 

sucli  as  their  scanty  means  will  allow,  or  retire  to  the  ale-houses 
in  the  vicinity  to  indulge  in  the  favorite  beverage  of  the  country. 
I  know  of  but  few  scenes  better  calculated  to  amuse  the  American 
than  a  Saturday  night  market  in  Sheffield,  for  there  he  will  see 
much  of  the  olden  time  blended  with  the  peculiarities  of  the  new. 
The  busy  throng — the  strange  dialect,  the  quaint  costume — all 
have  attractions  for  him,  and  all  command  his  attention. 

The  extensive  cutlery  establishment  of  the  Messrs.  Rogers  is 
located  in  Sheffield,  and  on  presenting  myself  and  announcing 
where  I  was  from,  every  attention  was  shown  me,  and  the  curiosi- 
ties of  their  show-rooms  opened  for  inspection.  To  the  curious 
in  such  things,  there  were  many  wonderful  articles,  but  I  took 
very  little  interest  in  them.  The  best  and  most  remarkable  of 
their  manufactures  had  been  sent  to  the  ''  Exhibition,''  where 
they  attracted  much  attention.  This  firm  deals  in  silver  plate  as 
well  as  cutlery,  but  they  do  not  manufacture  it.  In  fact  they 
make  but  few  of  the  articles  in  which  they  trade,  excepting  cut- 
lery, and  not  all  of  that.  The  small  establishments  of  Sheffield 
are  said  to  produce  more  of  Rogers'  articles  than  they  do  them- 
selves. 

The  west  end  contains  many  very  fine  buildings,  both  public 
and  private.  On  an  eminence  which  overlooks  the  town  and 
surrounding  country,  there  is  a  row  of  fine  dwellings,  in  one  of 
which  Montgomery,  the  poet,  resides.  He  is  a  hale  old  man, 
on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  and,  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  government 
pension,  is  quietly  wearing  out  the  thread  of  existence  in  his  fa- 
vorite Sheffield.  He  occasionally  attends  public  meetings  held 
for  philanthropic  objects,  and  gives  both  his  time  and  money  to 
aid  and  relieve  the  distresses  of  the  poor. 

The  Parish  Church  is  an  ancient  edifice,  having  been  built  so 
early  as  the  year  1110.  It  is  a  large  Gothic  structure,  with  a 
chancel,  in  which  are  erected  several  costly  tombs  and  monu- 
ments. Here  I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  marble  figures  reposing  at 
full  length  on  the  tombs  of  the  departed.  There  is  one  monu- 
ment to  the  fourth  Eurl  of  Shrewsbury  and  his  two  countesses, 
on  which  there  are  three  figures  the  size  of  life,  sculptured  ia 


60  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  highway; 

marble.  Each  one  lies  as  if  stretched  in  death,  with  the  hands 
and  arms  crossed  upon  the  breast.  A  faint  "religious  light'' 
rested  upon  these  dusty  effigies,  and  the  ghostly  forms  looked,  in 
the  subdued  rays  that  streamed  through  the  old  chancel  window, 
like  the  bodies  of  the  unburied  dead,  in  the  costume  of  the  olden 
time.  The  objects  around  and  before  reminded  me  that  I  was  in 
an  ancient  place,  surrounded  by  the  ashes  of  those  whose  power 
was  great  in  feudal  times.  The  garments  of  the  figures  were  in 
the  fashion  of  another  age.  Armor  and  implements  of  war  used 
in  bygone  centuries  were  chiselled  on  the  tombs,  and  the  mottos 
of  the  houses  to  which  the  occupants  belonged  graced  the  scrolls. 
The  days  of  knighthood  and  mailed  cavaliers  came  back  to  my 
recollection,  and  imagination  invested  with  life  the  marble  images 
before  me. 

Sternly  they  rest,  those  speechless  representatives  of  the  dead 
of  other  years ;  and  although  there  is  an  air  of  stiffness  about 
them,  it  is  in  character  with  the  times  of  "feudal  sway,"  and 
causes  the  behoTder  to  imagine  himself  in  the  presence  of  those 
whose  actual  lives  have  shed  a  romance  over  English  history. 

A  walk,  of  a  fine  day,  through  the  lanes  and  by-paths  of  Old 
England,  is  a  more  pleasant  treat,  to  the  lover  of  the  beautiful  and 
elevating  in  rural  life,  than  all  the  gratifications  to  be  derived  from 
pent-up  cities.  Two  gentlemen  of  Sheffield  and  myself  made  a 
pedestrian  excursion  of  about  thirty  miles  through  the  surround- 
ing country,  visiting,  in  our  rambles,  the  estates  of  Howard,  Earl 
of  Effingham,  and  Earl  Fitzwilliam,  both  of  which  lie  within  eight 
miles  of  the  town,  although  in  different  directions.  The  walk 
through  the  fine  park  attached  to  Wentworth  House,  once  the 
seat  of  the  Thorou(/h  Strafford,  Prime  Minister  under  Charles  the 
First,  was  delightful.  The  estate  belongs  to  Earl  Fitzwilliam, 
having  descended  to  that  nobleman  from  his  ancestor  above 
named,  beheaded  by  Cromwell  and  his  Parliament,  on  account  of 
his  tyranny  and  persecutions  of  those  who  did  not  choose  to  be  of 
his  way  of  thinking.  The  house,  or  more  properly  castle,  is  a 
noble  edifice,  with  a  front  of  more  than  six  hundred  feet,  and 
beautiful  in  its  proportions.  The  parks  are  rich  in  mnjestio  old 
oaks,  and  herds  of  deer  feed  quietly  on  the  verdant  lawns  and 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  61 

green  swards,  which  extend  for  acres  before  the  mansion.  Two 
large  monuments  are  on  the  estate,  one  to  the  memory  of  Admiral 
Keppel,  the  other  to  the  Marquis  of  Kockingham.  The  galleries 
of  the  house  are  adorned  with  a  number  of  celebrated  paintings 
and  pieces  of  sculpture,  and  the  whole  domain  looks  more  like 
the  residence  of  a  monarch  than  a  peer.  When  we  visited  it,  the 
family  was  not  at  home,  and  the  house  was  under  the  control  of 
the  butler.  There  he  lived  like  a  lord,  and  apparently  as  happy. 
A  splendid  range  of  stables  is  attached  to  the  mansion,  which, 
externally,  is  as  fine  a  building  as  many  could  desire  for  a  resi- 
dence. The  stalls  for  the  horses  were  better  built  and  cleaner 
than  many  of  the  cottages  on  the  estate,  and  the  horses  better 
cared  for  than  the  peasantry.  The  structure  is  of  stone,  built  in 
the  form  of  a  hollow  square,  with  a  court-yard,  in  which  a  gurgling 
fountain  plays  constantly.  The  stalls  for  the  animals  are  ceiled 
and  plastered,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  for  one-half  the 
English  cottages. 

"VVe  continued  our  walk  to  Wentworth  and  Greasboro,  two  vil- 
lages on  the  domain  of  Fitzwilliam,  and  returned  to  town  through 
lanes  and  roads  lined  with  hedgerows  by  way  of  the  old  town  of 
Kotherham,  once  of  far  more  importance  than  Sheffield,  but  now 
an  inconsiderable  place  when  compared  with  the  city  of  cutlery. 
The  parish  church  of  Ilotherham  is  a  splendid  rectangular  Gothic 
edifice,  built  on  the  site  of  a  Saxon  structure,  in  the  reign  of  the 
fourth  Edward.  It  is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  architecture  of  old, 
and  is  the  principal  attraction  to  the  stranger  in  the  place.  In 
the  south  transept  is  a  monument  to  fifty  young  persons,  princi- 
pally children,  who  were  drowned  in  the  river  Don,  at  Masboro, 
at  the  launching  of  a  vessel  on  the  5th  of  July,  1841.  There 
are  also  several  ancient  tombs,  adorned  with  marble  figures,  erected 
to  commemorate  the  services  of  men  long  since  forgotten. 

Our  ramble  was  over  the  soil  once  trodden  by  Cedric  the  Saxon, 
and  Gurth  the  Churl ;  through  woods  once  the  retreat  of  outlaw 
and  forester,  but  now  the  resort  of  the  peaceable  citizen  and  curious 
tourist. 

During  the  stroll  we  rested  at  road- side  or  village  inns,  and 
met  at  each  of  those  at  which  we  tarried  a  warm  English  w  .i 
6 


62  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

come,  such  as  Shenstonc  made  the  subject  of  one  of  his  most 
celebrated  poems.  They  were  quiet  little  homes,  and  attractive  to 
the  stranger.  At  one  of  them,  an  old  dame,  with  snowy  cap  and 
■white  apron,  ushered  us  into  a  cheerful  parlor,  every  feature  of 
which  bore  evidence  of  her  tidiness  and  excellent  housekeeping. 
The  floor  was  sanded,  the  fireplace  decorated  with  boughs  of  green, 
and  the  walls  hung  round  with  pictures  of  rustic  life  and  scenes 
from  English  history.  She  soon  brought  us  tankards  filled  with 
foaming  home-brewed  ale,  a  loaf  of  coarse  brown  bread,  and  a 
supply  of  tart  old  cheese.  I  realized,  to  my  satisfaction,  that 
I  was  in  an  English  inn.  There  was  no  mistake  about  it; 
before  me  were  the  windows,  with  their  diamond-shaped  panes, 
the  oaken  floor,  the  leaden  sashes,  the  broad  deal-table,  and,  more 
than  all,  the  homely,  yet  wholesome  fare  !  Good  old  Falstiifl'! 
thou  wert  right,  and  knew  well  what  constituted  real  comfort.  I, 
like  thee,  love 

*'  To  take  mine  case  in  mine  inn," 

and,  humble  though  it  be,  the  wayside  or  village  hostclrie  is  a  very 
home  to  me ! 

Our  journey  fitted  us  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  quiet  of  the 
hearthside,  and  we  had  a  ''feast  of  wit'*  and  exchange  of  feeling 
at  the  house  of  one  of  our  company.  There  were  eyes  there  that 
"marked  our  coming,  and  looked  brighter  when  wo  came,"  and 
sweet  was  the  welcome  home. 

It  was  fitting  that  our  day  should  close  with  a  scene  of  domestic 
harmony  such  as  I  witnessed  in  that  well-trained  English  family, 
and  such  pleasures  as  delighted  us  there. 

We  were  not  many,  and  the  very  fact  that  there  were  but  few  of 
us  made  our  time  pass  agreeably.  In  the  company  was  an  old 
maiden  lady  who  was  passionately  fond  of  Pomfret's  poems.  Her 
kinsmen  were  not  well  read  in  English  poetry,  and  knew  nothing 
of  her  favorite  author.  She  had,  years  before,  accidentally  met 
with  a  stray  copy,  and  in  her  hours  of  loneliness  made  it  her  study. 
To  her  there  was  no  poet  like  Pomfret,  and  no  poem  liko  "  The 
Choice."  I  was  appealed  to,  by  one  of  the  gentlemen,  as  to 
whether  the  poet  was  ever  heard  of  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic ; 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  63 

and  when  I  assured  him  that  all  men  of  literary  taste  there  were 
acquainted  with  his  works,  and  admired  many  of  his  productions, 
the  maiden  aunt  exulted,  and  praised  Americans  for  their  judg- 
ment and  appreciation  of  talent. 

"But,"  said  the  gentleman,  "sjie  quotes  Pomfret  on  all  occa- 
sions, and  thinks  his  book  equal  to  every  other,  only  excepting 
the  Bible.'' 

"  Why,  that's  strange  !  You  know,"  said  I,  appealing  to  the 
lady,  "that  your  author  incorporated  a  stanza  into  ^The  Choice' 
to  the  effect  that  a  mistress  would  be  preferred  by  him  to  a  wife, 
and  in  consequence  of  that  he  was  suspended  from  his  clerical 
duties  by  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  !" 

•The  whole  family  joined  in  merriment  at  this  announcement, 
and  the  ancient  maiden  was  confused.  Her  great  favorite  was 
unmasked,  and  that  by  one  in  whom  she  expected  to  find  a  fellow- 
admirer  and  champion  ! 

"  You  must  come  all  the  way  from  America  to  revive  the  old 
slander  against  Pomfret,  and  give  my  kinsmen  the  mastery  over 
me  and  him  !  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  of  Pomfret  to  you,  and  will 
never  hear  the  last  of  that  charge.  If  you  had  not  come,  they 
would  never  have  known  that  such  was  the  case,  and  I  would 
have  been  permitted  to  admire  my  author  and  quote  him  without 
being  subjected  to  ridicule.  You  have  told  the  truth  ;  but  Pomfret 
was  not  a  bad  man,  after  all  that  was  said  against  him  I" 

Her  friends  took  delight  in  annoying  her  about  her  favorite 
author,  and  I  was  complimented  on  my  knowledge  of  the  English 
poets.  The  gentle  spinster  bore  the  jesting  philosophically,  and 
quoted  Pomfret's  lines  perseveringly  in  her, and  his  defence.  She 
became  excited  a  little  at  times ;  but  I  came  to  her  aid,  and  tried 
to  cover  up  the  fault  I  had  committed. 

"No  more  from  you,"  she  said  ',  "you  threw  the  apple  of  dis- 
cord, and  now  don't  attempt  to  remedy  the  evil.  You  cannot 
undo  the  mischief." 

The  evening  wore  away  imperceptibly,  and  the  small  hours  of 
morning  came  dancing  in  before  we  retired  4o  rest,  and  when  we 
did  go  it  was  with  reluctance  and  a  quotation  from — Pomfret. 

Before  taking  final  leave  of  Sheffield,  I  made  an  excursion  to 


64  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

Chatsworth,  in  company  with  a  young  friend  whose  acquaintance 
I  made  through  a  letter  of  introduction  from  his  brother  in  Ame- 
rica. The  morning  was  cloudy,  and  the  wind  high.  Our  road 
lay  over  the  barren  moors  of  Derbyshire,  one  of  the  most  deso- 
late portions  of  England.  For  several  miles  there  were  but  few 
houses,  and  the  only  objects  worthy  of  note  that  met  our  gaze 
were  occasional  herds  of  mountain  sheep,  and  Scotch  cattle  pas- 
turing on  the  scanty  grass  which  grows  upon  the  cultivated  lands 
of  those  dreary  hills.  The  moors  extend  for  sixteen  miles,  and 
are,  for  the  most  part,  covered  with  bracken,  furze,  and  fragments 
of  rocks.  At  a  place  called  Owley  Bar,  there  is  an  old  inn, 
famous  when  stage-coaches  were  in  their  glory,  but  now  a  shadow 
of  its  former  greatness.  It  stands  on  a  high  peak,  and  can  be  seen 
for  miles  as  you  approach  it  from  any  direction,  presenting  the 
appearance  of  a  turreted  castle.  The  moorlands  around  it  belong 
mainly  to  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  and  are  game  preserves.  They 
abound  in  grouse  and  hares,  and  are  a  favorite  resort  of  the  owner 
in  the  hunting  season.  At  one  point  of  the  desolate  tract  stands 
the  house  of  the  gamekeeper,  which  commands  an  extensive 
view  of  the  surrounding  country.  The  Argus  eyes  of  the  watch- 
ful guardian  of  his  grace's  game-lands  seldom  fails  to  discover  the 
wily  poachers,  and  that  sentinel  house  is  a  thing  dreaded  by  the 
filchers  of  stray  hares  and  venturesome  grouse. 

After  a  journey  of  a  few  hours,  we  reached  Baslow,  a  pleasant 
village  near  Chatsworth,  the  princely  estate  of  the  J)uke  of  Devon- 
shire. Our  main  object  was  to  visit  the  famous  ducal  residence, 
and  when  rested  from  our  fatigue  we  entered  the  domain.  The 
estate  was  one  of  those  given  by  William  the  Conqueror  to  Wil- 
liam Peverel,  an  attendant;  but  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  it  was 
purchased  by  Sir  William  Cavendish,  who  commenced  a  mansion- 
house  on  it,  which  was  completed  by  his  widow,  the  renowned 
Countess  of  Shrewsbury.  The  present  building  was  erected  by  the 
first  Duke  of  Devonshire,  in  1 702.  The  park  is  about  nine  miles  in 
circumference,  beautifully  diversified  with  hill  and  vale,  and  con- 
tains fallow  and  other  deer  to  the  number  of  seventeen  hundred. 
Some  idea  of  the  magnificence  of  Chatsworth  can  be  formed  from 
this  statement,  and  the  palace  is  in  every  particular  in  character 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  65 

with  the  grounds  around.  The  park  abounds  in  groves  and  avenues 
of  noble  oaks,  splendid  drives,  and  beautiful  scenery.  The  river 
Derwent  flows  through  it  and  immediately  in  front  of  the  mansion, 
in  the  rear  of  which  there  is  a  long  range  of  hills,  the  southern 
spur  of  the  highlands  of  the  Derbyshire  moors,  crowned  with  a  thick 
growth  of  timber,  and  kept  in  a  wild  and  rugged  state.  Several 
artificial  cascades  are  formed  over  these  ridges  by  conducting 
water  to  the  summit  through  tunnels  and  pipes,  and  causing  it  to 
rush  headlong  down  the  hill-side  over  rocks  and  jagged  projec- 
tions, so  arranged  as  to  create  foam  and  spray.  The  principal 
stream,  thus  diverted,  falls  about  one  hundred  feet,  and  is  some 
twenty  feet  wide.  It  has  the  appearance  from  below  of  a  shower 
of  silver,  and  strongly  resembles  the  Catskill  Mountain  cascade, 
when  seen  from  a  distance.  Art  has  done  wonders  for  Chats- 
worth;  but  nature,  too,  has  there  been  lavish  of  her  charms. 

There  is  a  small  castle  in  the  park  near  the  river,  surrounded 
by  a  moat,  in  which,  it  is  said,  Mary,  the  unhappy  Queen  of  Scots, 
was  imprisoned  for  thirteen  years.  It  is  a  circular  stone  building, 
and  at  this  time  the  interior  is  filled  with  earth,  and  trees  are 
growing  in  the  centre.  The  walls  are  massive  and  strong,  and  at 
some  points  overhung  with  ivy.  Age  is  traceable  on  every  part, 
and  whether  it  was  or  was  not  the  prison-house  of  the  queen 
whose  romantic  history  is  in  every  school-girl's  recollection,  it  has 
evidently  been  at  some  period  the  dungeon  of  more  than  one 
captive. 

The  rain  fell  fast  during  the  day,  marring  our  pleasure  for 
a  time,  but  not  entirely.  It  was  our  intention  to  visit  Had- 
don  Hall,  but  the  storm  prevented,  and  we  were  obliged  to  be 
content  with  Chatsworth  and  its  vicinity.  Our  host  at  Baslow 
was  a  friendly  person,  and  after  we  had  dined  he  and  I  entered 
into  conversation  upon  various  subjects,  and  among  them  the 
United  States  was  one.  He  knew  several  persons  who  now  reside 
in  America — young  men  who  went  from  Chatsworth.  He  saw 
them  go,  and  stated  that  Mr.  Paxton,  the  originator  of  the  Crys- 
tal Palace,  presented  each  with  sums  varying  from  five  to  ten 
pounds  at  the  time  of  their  departure. 

Here,  by  accident,  I  was  put  into  possession  of  a  leaf  in  the 

6* 


6G  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

history  of  this  gentleman,  interesting  in  many  respects.  He  was 
a  gardener  in  early  life,  and  is  a  native  of  Berwickshire,  Scot- 
laud.  The  Duke  of  Devonshire,  while  on  a  visit  to  a  market- 
town,  where  there  were  flowers  for  sale,  was  attracted  by  a  par- 
ticular collection,  which  exhibited  greater  care  and  skill  in 
their  culture  than  any  others.  He  inquired  who  raised  them, 
and  learned  that  it  was  the  gardener  who  had  them  for  sale.  A 
proposition  was  at  OUce  made  by  the  nobleman  to  the  horticulturist, 
and,  as  it  was  advantageous,  it  was  accepted.  He  went  to  Chats- 
worth,  where  he  arrived  about  twenty-five  years  ago,  with  not 
more  than  six  shillings  in  his  pocket.  Here  he  had  every  advan- 
tage of  exercising  his  peculiar  talent,  and,  as  he  was  industrious, 
and  attentive  to  his  master's  interests,  he  gradually  arose  to  favor 
and  power.  He  suggested  alterations  in  the  park,  and  they  were 
made.  He  removed  and  transplanted  oaks  and  elms;  formed 
splendid  and  continuous  alcoves  and  arbors,  where  before  were 
straggling  trees,  and  added  greatly  to  the  beauty  and  splendor  of 
the  estate.  The  confidence  of  the  nobleman  became  unbounded, 
and  he  gave  the  servant  full  control  over  Chatsworth.  He  now 
employs  and  discharges — receives  and  expends,  and  has  become  so 
identified  with  the  domain  as  to  be  known  in  the  neighborhood 
as  the  "little  duke." 

The  peer  calls  him  by  the  familiar  term  of  "  ray  friend,"  and 
he  is  a  man  respected  and  esteemed  by  all.  Ho  bears  his  honors 
modestly,  and  docs  not  (like  too  many  who  have  been  elevated 
to  distinction  from  nothing)  forget  his  early  companions  and  fellow- 
laborers.  When  he  visits  Chatsworth,  he  always  has  a  word  for 
his  former  associates,  and  all  love  him  for  it.  It  was  at  his 
suggestion  that  the  splendid  conservatory  at  Chatsworth  Hall 
was  built,  and  that  minor  palace  of  glass  suggested  the  more 
magnificent  one  in  Hyde  Park.  But  there  is  another  person 
deserving  some  praise  in  this  design,  and  that  is  a  Mr.  Robin- 
son, an  architect,  who  resides  at  Baslow.  Mr.  Paxton  is  not  a 
draughtsman ;  he  can  tell  how  he  wants  a  thing  done,  and  knows 
whether  it  is  properly  made,  but  ho  cannot  put  his  ideas  on  paper 
or  furnish  a  draught  of  the  thing  he  wishes  built.  Mr.  Robinson 
cnn.     Wo.  is  one  of  the  most  capable  men  in  England.     Paxton 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  67 

knows  and  appreciates  his  talents  and  professional  skill,  and  what 
Paxton  suggests,  the  other  makes  a  draught  of.  Paxton  originated 
the  Glass  Palace,  but,  had  it  not  been  for  Mr.  Hobinson,  the  pro- 
babilities are  that  it  never  would  have  had  a  form,  "  a  local  habi- 
tation, or  a  name."  The  drawings  were  made  at  Baslow,  by  Mr. 
Robinson,  for  which  Mr.  Paxton  gave  him  £100,  or  a  sum  nearly 
equal  to  $500 ;  and  it  is  asserted  that  neither  he  nor  his  wife 
drew  a  sober  breath  until  the  last  penny  of  the  one  hundred  pounds 
in  question  was  gone.  My  informant  was  a  man  of  veracity,  had 
been  a  fellow-workman  with  Sir  Joseph  Paxton  (this  being  now 
his  title),  and  gave  me  his^name  as  authority  for  the  statement. 
He  offered  to  introduce  me  to  the  architect,  whose  cottage  was 
within  full  view  from  where  I  then  stood. 

There  is  at  Chatsworth  a  model  village,  called  Edensor,  built 
at  the  expense  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  after  the  designs  fur- 
nished by  Mr.  Paxton  and  his  protigL  Every  house  is  different, 
and  for  beauty  and  comfort  the  place  stands  unrivalled.  The 
houses  are  in  the  various  styles  of  rural  and  cottage  architecture, 
now  so  popular  in  the  United  States,  and  each  one  is  a  neat  con- 
venient villa.  The  old  church  in  the  village  is  one  of  the  most 
romantic  in  England.  It  stands  above  the  level  of  the  street,  and 
is  surrounded  by  a  natural  colonnade  of  trees,  so  arranged  as  to 
look  like  the  tall  arches  of  a  bridge.  The  branches  have  been 
trimmed  smoothly  off  on  two  sides,  and  the  summits  are  made 
quite  flat  and  level.  The  remaining  branches  intertwine  each 
other,  and  form  one  of  the  most  beautiful  ranges  of  arches  in  the 
world.  The  trunks  of  the  trees  look  like  tall  columns,  while  the 
curves  and  foliage  above  form  a  range  of  emerald  spans  unsur- 
passed in  elegance.  In  the  chancel  of  the  church  are  the  tombs 
of  the  Cavendish  family.  There  are  several  marble  figures 
stretched  at  full  length  on  the  tombs  like  so  many  ghostly  dead ; 
and  on  one  of  the  vaults  there  is  a  human  skeleton,  cut  from  the 
whitest  marble,  reminding  the  visitor  forcibly  of  the  folly  of  dis- 
tinctions in  this  life,  and  the  certainty  of  death.  The  church  is 
an  ancient  building,  nearly  covered  with  ivy,  and  stands  like  a 
heavy  sentinel,  watching  over  the  expanse  before  it. 

We  left  Baslow  late  in  the  afternoon,  and,  as  the  stage  was 


68  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  UIGIIWAY  ; 

gone,  dotermined  to  walk  to  SheflSeld,  a  distance  of  twelve  mileg. 
The  road  was  wet  and  covered  with  a  white  mud  formed  by  the 
rain  and  dust  arising  from  the  wear  of  the  material  used  on  the 
turnpikes  in  that  part  of  the  island.  The  storm  subsided,  and 
although  the  winds  were  keen  and  high,  the  walk  was  far  from 
disagreeable.  When  we  got  cleverly  out  on  to  the  moors,  the  night 
set  in,  and  a  dull  cloudy  sky  overhung  the  bleak  and  desolate 
hills.  Occasional  drops  of  rain  fell  from  the  flying  vapors,  and 
blackness  covered  the  face  of  the  land.  As  we  wended  our  way 
over  the  dreary  waste,  each,  as  if  by  mutual  consent,  fell  into  a 
train  of  musings  agreeable  to  himself. 

The  sublime  in  nature  always  produces,  in  my  mind,  a  chain  of 
melancholy  but  pleasing  reflections,  and  there,  at  night,  under  a 
gloomy  sky,  on  the  sterile  moors  of  England,  the  same  thoughts 
arose  that  pressed  upon  my  soul  on  the  boundless  prairies  of  the 
west,  and  the  restless  waters  of  the  ocean. 

AVe  reached  Sheffield  at  a  late  hour,  tired  and  jaded  with  our 
long  walk  and  the  day's  excursion. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  HOMES   AND   GRAVES   OF   BYRON   AND   MARY   CHA WORTH — 
NOTTINGHAM — HENRY  KIRKE  WHITE. 

Byron's  grave,  at  Ilucknall,  and  Newstead  Abbey  are  objects 
of  interest  to  me,  and  after  a  lengthened  stay  at  Shefiield,  I  took 
an  outside  seat  on  the  stage  for  Mansfield,  from  which  place  I  pro- 
ceeded on  foot.  The  road  lay  through  a  succession  of  scenery 
such  as  meets  the  eye  only  in  England ;  and  which  greets  the 
traveller  with  little  variation  throughout  the  southern  part  of  the 
island  of  Great  Britain.  The  town  of  Chesterfield,  on  this  route, 
is  remarkable  for  the  singular  spire  of  the  old  church,  which  re- 
minds one  of  the  leaning  tower  of  I'isa.  It  is  constructed  of  wood, 
and,  although  nearly  straight,  is  built  so  as  to  appear,  from  any 
point  of  view,  as  if  it  were  leaning  at  an  angle  of  fifteen  or  twenty 


69 

degrees.  Between  this  town  and  Mansfield,  there  are  two  cele- 
brated castles — one  the  old  palace  of  Hardwick;  the  other  the 
ancient  baronial  stronghold  of  Bolsover.  In  the  centre  of  the 
main  square  of  the  last-named  town,  there  is  a  fine  Gothic  monu- 
ment to  the  memory  of  Lord  George  Bentinck,  a  young  Eng- 
lish nobleman  who  died  a  few  years  ago,  at  a  time  when  he  was 
rapidly  rising  to  eminence  as  a  statesman  in  the  British  Parlia- 
ment. 

Having  strapped  my  knapsack  on  my  back,  I  left  Mansfield, 
and  took  the  turnpike  to  Derby,  the  nearest  way  to  Hucknall. 
The  day  was  warm  and  pleasant,  and  my  route  lay  over  a  moor, 
once  a  part  of  Sherwood  Forest.  The  road  for  some  distance  was 
very  indifierent,  and  equally  bad  with  any  in  the  United  States. 
For  miles  there  were  but  few  houses  within  sight;  and  wild 
shrubbery  and  yellow  blossoming  furze  grew  in  abundance  along 
the  highway.  The  soil  was  sandy,  and  poorly  cultivated  where 
cultivation  was  attempted.  I  walked  a  distance  of  nine  miles  over 
lands  once  the  haunts  of  Bobin  Hood  and  his  ^^  merrie  foresters;" 
and  in  some  places  the  wood  was  so  thick  that  it  did  not  require 
a  very  active  imagination  to  people  it  with  the  descendants  of 
the  bold  outlaw  and  his  followers.  Groves  of  fir  and  pines,  inter- 
spersed with  magnificent  oaks,  whose  branches  shadowed  all  the 
wild,  formed  a  cool  retreat  and  pleasant  shade  for  the  weary 
traveller. 

I  sat  down  on  the  bank  x)f  a  gurgling  stream,  bright  and  clear, 
which  flowed  from  a  clump  of  noble  trees  near  by,  and  fell  into  a 
train  of  thought  on  the  events  in  a  man's  history,  and  the  realiza- 
tion of  my  boyish  daydreams.  I  was  on  classic  soil — in  Sher- 
wood Forest — surrounded  by  giant  forest-kings  and  English  syl- 
van scenery.  A  herd  of  deer  was  grazing  under  the  shade  of  the 
tall  trees,  and  methought  I  saw  the  melancholy  Jacques  standing 
against  the  strong  trunk  of  an  old  oak,  soliloquizing  on  a  wounded 
stag  that  had  "  ta'en  a  hurt"  from  the  aim  of  some  green-robed 
forester.  The  day  was  calm,  the  sky  banked  up  with  fleecy 
clouds,  and  the  scenery  such  as  a  novelist  would  desire  to  paint — 
ultra-romantic. 

As  I  pursued  my  course  along  the  road,  I  passed  an  inn  bearing 


70  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  highway; 

the  name  of  England's  outlawed  forester,  which  a  rustic  assured 
me  was  the  very  house  in  which  the  bold  outlaw  was  wont  to  hold 
riot  when  in  his  glory.  The  place  had  enough  of  the  woodman's 
hut  about  it  to  make  the  beholder  believe  it  to  be  what  tradition 
represents  it;  but  it  wanted  age. 

A  mile  or  more  southward  of  the  wayside  inn,  I  stopped  at  a 
toll-gate  to  inquire  the  nearest  way  to  the  village  of  Hucknall, 
and  was  directed  through  a  park  immediately  before  me.  It  was 
a  broad  and  highly  picturesque  landscape,  on  whose  verdant  sur- 
face numbers  of  deer  were  feeding.  Groves  of  giant  oaks  crowned 
the  surrounding  hills,  and  the  soft  summer  winds  were  rich  with 
the  scent  of  new-mown  hay.  As  I  slowly  wended  my  way  along 
the  paths,  the  scenery  became  familiar,  and  there  was  no  difficulty 
in  recognizing  it  from  Byron's  writings.  There  was  the  "  gentle 
hiir^  on  which  he  was  wont  to  meet  with  her  who  was  the  object 
of  his  warmest  and  holiest  love,  and  where  his  youthful  soul  first 
felt  how  keen  a  sting  was  that  of  unrequited  passion.  It  still 
was 

"Green  and  of  mild  declivity,  tlie  last, 
As  'twere  the  cape  of  a  long  ridge  of  such. 
Save  that  there  was  no  sea  to  lave  its  base 
But  a  most  living  landscape " 

but  the  "  trees  of  circular  array"  were  gone,  and  the  spot  whereon 
the  "  youth  and  the  maiden"  once  stood  was  no  longer  shaded 
by  the  broad  branches  of  the  oaks,  from  within  whoso  shadow 
she  watched — 

"Looking  afar,  if  yet  her  lover's  8teod 
Kept  pace  with  her  expectiincy  and  flew." 

The  summer  winds  waved  the  grass  upon  the  summit  of  the 
hill,  and  Annesloy  Park,  the  birthplace  and  patrimony  of  Mary 
Chaworth,  looked  as  enchantingly  on  that  day  as  if  sorrow  had 
never  entered  its  borders. 

I  turned  towards  Hucknall,  a  straggling  hamlet,  witli  but  few 
cottages,  and  only  famous  as  the  burial-place  of  the  }5yrons.  The 
scene  before  me  was  eminently  English  and  beautiful.  The  vel- 
vety sward,  the  tower  of  the  distant  village  shrine,  the  abodes  of 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  71 

men,  the  heavy  wains,  and  the  balmy  air  of  June,  made  up  a 
picture  at  once  enchanting  and  sweet,  aside  from  the  associations 
connected  with  it.  I  enjoyed  the  time  and  place,  and  leisurely 
strolled  on,  within  the  shade  of  green  hedges  and  bending  trees, 
until  I  entered  the  village  street.  The  church  was  the  principal 
spot  I  cared  to  visit,  and,  after  depositing  my  knapsack  at  the  inn, 
and  sending  for  the  clerk,  I  entered  the  building.  There  was  a 
company  of  English  tourists  already  there,  and  their  levity  was 
unbecoming,  to  say  the  least  of  it.  The  poet  never  entertained  a 
flattering  opinion  of  his  countrymen,  and  his  dust  would  have 
crept,  had  he  known  that  some  of  them  were  laughing  and  jest- 
ing over  his  grave.  The  interior  of  the  church  is  in  great  dis- 
order, and,  like  the  rest  of  the  building,  old  and  decayed.  The 
vault  wherein  the  poet  lies  buriod  is  covered  with  two  large  slabs 
of  rough  stone  clumsily  fitted  together,  and  the  floor  around, 
which  is  of  the  same  material,  is  broken  and  irregular.  A  plain 
white  marble  tablet,  bearing  an  inscription  to  the  poet's  memory, 
is  fitted  in  the  wall  and  surrounded  by  a  black  border.  It  is  im- 
mediately over  the  vault ;  and  beneath  it  there  is  a  coat  of  arms, 
cut  in  stone,  with  the  motto,  "  Crede  Byron ;'^  and  this  is  the 
tomb  of  the  author  of  "  Childe  Harold  !"  He  reposes  among  his 
ancestors,  and  near  the  last  resting-place  of  her  who  bore  him. 
Opposite  to  the  poet's  tomb  is  a  stone  bearing  a  long  inscription 
to  the  services  and  worth  of  a  Byron,  who  adhered  to  the  cause 
of  Charles  the  First  in  the  days  of  that  monarch's  misfortune. 

The  English  company  soon  left  the  church,  and  after  they  were 
gone  I  stood  for  some  time  meditating  on  the  changes  and  troubles 
in  the  life  of  him  whose  ashes  were  beneath  my  feet.  A  beautiful 
young  girl  of  seventeen  summers,  with  an  '^  eye  as  blue  as  hea- 
ven," and  a  face  expressive  of  sinless  purity,  was  my  guide.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  the  parish  clerk,  and  during  her  father's  ab- 
sence waited  on  strangers  to  the  tomb.  I  recorded  my  name  in 
a  book  she  kept  for  visitors,  and  on  looking  over  it  noticed  those 
of  a  great  number  of  Americans.  I  asked  her  if  she  saw  many  of 
my  countrymen,  to  which  she  replied  in  the  affirmative.  More  of 
them  visit  Hucknall  than  of  any  other  foreigners,  and  all  of  them 
take  great  interest  in  everything  relating  to  Byron.     "  Has  Lady 


72  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

Byron  ever  been  here  ?"  I  asked.  '^  No,"  said  sbe,  "  not  within 
my  recollection ;  but  last  summer  Lady  Lovelace  was  here,  Byron's 
daughter.  She  came  with  Mrs.  Wildman,  the  lady  of  the  present 
occupant  of  Newstead  Abbey.  When  she  came  in,  she  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears,  and  wept  long  and  audibly.  It  was  an  affecting 
scene,  sir,  and  I  could  not  help  but  weep  with  her.  She  stood 
some  time  leaning  over  the  vault  against  the  tablet,  and  sighed  as 
though  her  very  heart  would  break.  Ay,  sir,  she  loved  her 
father ;  and  could  he  have  seen  her,  and  known  her  affection  for 
him,  he  would  have  been  a  better  and  a  happier  man.  She  never 
came  but  once  to  the  grave,  and  then  it  was  a  difficult  thing  to 
get  her  away.  I  believe  she  grew  ill  in  consequence  of  grief  after 
that  visit,  and  it  was  deemed  prudent  not  to  renew  it." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  either  of  the  Musters  family  ever 
visited  the  place  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  several  of  them  have  been  here,  and  I  have  been 
told  that  Mary  Chaworth  came  once,  a  few  years  before  she  died, 
and  passed  some  time  in  the  church.  They  who  saw  her  speak 
of  her  as  a  pale  sad  lady,  of  gr^at  beauty  j  one  who  looked  heart- 
broken and  unhappy.  She  did  not  converse  of  Byron,  nor  even 
utter  his  name,  but  stood  silently  at  his  grave  like  a  marble  figure 
in  which  grief  was  forever  frozen." 

The  fascinating  maiden  was  anxious  to  render  all  the  informa- 
tion in  her  power,  but  cautious  and  truthful  in  her  statcment,s. 
She  told  me  that  many  of  the  visitors  act  strangely  when  at  the 
tomb,  and  some  recite  lines  aloud  from  the  works  of  the  poet, 
while  others  are  affected  even  to  tears. 

I  wanted  a  memento  to  take  with  me,  some  trifle  from  Byron's 
grave,  but  there  was  none.  She  was  unhappy  because  she  had 
nothing  for  me,  and  made  search  for  a  something  that  I  might 
bear  away.  At  last  her  bright  blue  eye  flashed  with  delight,  and, 
said  she,  "  Hero  is  a  piece  of  oak  from  one  of  the  pews ;  it  was 
taken  off  by  the  workmen  when  making  repairs,  and  left  behind. 
You  can  have  it  turned  into  a  scal-handh^  if  you  wish."  I  ac- 
cepted the  gift  and  tbauked  her  for  it,  glad  even  of  this  token 
from  Byron's  grave. 

She  told  me  that  the  person  who  had  been  clerk  to  iho  parish 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  •  73 

before  her  father's  time  so  arranged  one  of  the  stone  slabs  as  to 
remove  it,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  showing  people  the  coffin,  but 
on  the  news  reaching  the  curate  the  man  was  discharged,  and  the 
stone  securely  cemented  in  its  proper  place. 

But  few  of  the  Bjron  family  visit  the  poet's  grave,  and,  with 
the  exception  of  his  sister  and  daughter,  none  remain  more  than 
a  few  minutes.     Strangers,  however, 

"Whose  wandering  feet  have  pressed 
The  Switzer's  snow,  the  Arab's  sand, 
And  trod  the  piled  leaves  of  the  West, 
My  own  green  native  land," 

have  made  it  the  Mecca  of  their  pilgrimages,  and  gone  thousands 
of  miles  to  pay  homage  to  the  dust  of  him  whose  genius  has  shed 
undying  lustre  on  English  literature. 

The  road  from  Hucknall  to  Newstead  Abbey  lies  through  a 
wood  as  wild  as  some  of  our  American  forests.  It  is  arched  with 
the  branches  and  foliage  of  trees  for  more  than  a  mile,  and  several 
limpid  streams  cross  it,  while  frequent  footpaths  lead  off  at  differ- 
ent points  into  the  deep  shade.  At  the  end  of  the  wood  it  runs 
over  a  gently  sloping  hill,  from  the  top  of  which  the  turrets  and 
Gothic  ruins  of  the  abbey  burst  upon  the  view.  There  is  the  lake 
and  every  feature  of  the  landscape  as  described  by  Byron.  The 
old  chancel-window  is  intertwined  with  ivy,  and  the  walls  look  as 
if  they  would  brave  time  and  its  storms  for  a  thousand  years. 
The  building  stands  in  a  quiet  valley  surrounded  by  hills,  and 

<'Lies  perhaps  a  little  low, 
Because  those  monks  preferred  a  hill  behind 
To  shelter  their  devotion  from  the  wind." 

The  grounds  are  laid  out  tastefully,  and  there  are  several 
gardens  bearing  names  according  to  the  countries  whence  the 
flowers  planted  in  them  come.  One  is  called  the  "  American 
garden,"  and  there  grow  luxuriantly  our  wild  honeysuckle  and 
rhododendron.  The  oak  planted  by  Byron  is  shown  as  one  of  the 
curiosities  of  the  place  ;  and  in  the  '^  devil's  wood,'^  a  deep,  im- 
penetrable shade,  there  is  a  tree  with  two  trunks,  dear  to  the 
7 


74    .  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

poet  and  his  sister,  on  which  he  cut  the  following  inscription  the 
evening  before  he  left  Newstead  forever  : — 


]czfjr'}''^'-''''- 


The  bark  has  grown  over  the  record ;  and  great  difficulty  is 
experienced  in  deciphering  the  date.  A  natural  arbor,  formed  of 
the  branches  of  oaks  and  overhanging  ivy,  is  pointed  to  as  the 
^'  Monks'  Walk  •/'  and  a  pure  crystal  spring,  called  the  "  Holy 
Well,'^  claims  the  visitor's  attention. 

In  the  body  of  the  abbey,  within  the  ruins,  are  several  figures 
in  stone,  and  a  fountain  gurgles  through  an  old  and  quaint  piece 
of  sculpture.  The  poet  has  described  the  place  in  his  matchless 
style,  and  no  pen  can  surpasss  the  description  left  by  him  of  the 
brave  old  pile.  As  I  stood  within  its  shade  and  listened  to  the 
falling  waters,  I  realized  in  full  his  rich  description  : — 

"  Amidst  the  covirt  a  Gothic  fountain  played, 
Symmetrical,  yet  decked  with  carvings  quaint, 
Strange  faces,  like  to  men  in  masquerade, 

And  here  perhaps  a  monster,  there  a  saint. 
The  spring  gushed  through  grim  mouths  of  granite  made, 

And  sparkled  into  basins,  where  it  spent 
Its  little  torrent  in  a  thousand  bubbles, 
Like  man's  vain  glories  and  his  vainer  troubles." 

Boatswain's  grave  is  always  visited,  but  beyond  the  halo  thrown 
over  the  tomb  by  the  genius  of  Byron,  there  is  nothing  attractive 
about  it.  The  celebrated  epitaph  is  scarcely  legible,  and  it  was 
only  by  supplying  from  memory  the  obliterated  portions  that  I 
was  enabled  to  read  the  inscription. 

From  that  spot  I  also  wished  a  memento,  but  was  refused.  Tlio 
cheerful  and  intelligent  lady's  maid,  who  conducted  me  over  and 
around  the  abbey  and  grounds,  was  sorry  she  could  not  comply 
with  my  request.  She  had  the  will  to  do  it,  but  her  orders  were 
positive,  and  she  could  not  violate  them.  I  insisted  :  "  Just  a  sprig 
from  that  fir-tree  along-side  the  grave — it  will  not  be  missed ;  and, 
as  I  have  come  a  considerable  distance,  I  am  confident  you  will 
not  refuse." 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  75 

"  You  are  an  American  1" 

"  Yes  !  from  Pennsylvania." 

"  Cut  the  branch,  then ;  but  it  is  only  because  you  are  an  Ame- 
rican that  you  obtain  the  favor  !'' 

I  thanked  her,  and  felt  proud  of  the  compliment  she  paid  me, 
as  well  as  of  the  sprig  from  Boatswain's  tomb  ! 

After  three  hours  spent  in  rambling  about  Newstead  and  the 
lands  adjacent,  I  returned  to  Hucknall,  whence  I  journeyed  on  to 
Nottingham,  having  walked  about  thirty  miles  during  the  day. 
A  long,  but  pleasant  ramble,  and  one  of  the  most  interesting  I 
ever  had. 

But  few  towns  in  England  are  more  romantically  situated  than 
Nottingham,  and  I  know  of  none  in  whose  vicinity  can  be  found 
finer  scenery.  The  Trent  is  a  clear,  swift  stream,  of  great  beauty, 
along  the  shores  of  which  are  several  splendid  walks  and  groves. 
Long  ranges  of  stately  elms  line  the  banks  at  a  short  distance 
from  the  town,  and  the  citizens  enjoy  pleasant  evening  rambles 
in  the  summer  twilights  under  the  noble  trees.  Clifton  Grove, 
on  the  river  named,  made  famous  by  the  muse  of  Henry  Kirke 
White,  and  Wilford  Churchyard,  are  the  very  spots  for  poetic 
reverie.  The  last-named  village  is  one  of  surpassing  beauty,  and 
the  true  representative  of  an  old  English  hamlet.  Its  every  fea- 
ture is  ancient,  and  speaks  more  of  the  days  of  Queen  Bess  than 
of  Victoria.  No  wonder  the  youthful  and  pious  White  desired  to 
lay  his  form  to  rest  in  its  lovely,  romantic  burial-place,  and  pity 
it  is  that  his  wish  was  not  gratified. 

I  walked  through  the  village  with  a  companion,  and  visited  the 
spot  where  the  "  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep."  The 
graves  are  swathed  with  osiers  and  decorated  with  rustic  devices, 
rough  tombstones,  and  rude  sculpture.  Tall  elms  spread  their 
branches  over  the  lowly  hillocks,  and  a  heavenly  quiet  reigns  on 
the  spot.  We  returned  to  Nottingham  by  a  turnpike  road,  crossing 
the  Trent  on  a  bridge  of  nineteen  arches,  built  centuries  ago,  and 
exhibiting  a  variety  of  architecture  from  frequent  repairs. 

Tlie  town  has  a  commanding  front  when  seen  from  "  the  wide 
vale  of  the  Trent,"  and  its  tall  church  towers  and  ruined  castle 
stand  out  in  bold  relief  against  the  sky.     When  you  enter,  you 


76  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

find  the  streets  clean  compared  with  those  of  other  manufacturing 
places,  and  the  houses  have  about  them  an  air  of  considerable 
antiquity.  The  market-place  is  a  fine  open  space,  built  up  on  two 
sides  with  rows  of  shops,  all  of  which  have  porticos  in  front,  sup- 
ported by  columns,  forming  a  covered  arcade,  which  extends  the 
entire  length  of  the  space.  In  a  small  street  leading  from 
the  square,  and  near  the  Exchange,  stands  the  house  in  which 
Henry  Kirko  White  was  born.  The  ground  floor  is  divided  into 
three  apartments,  two  of  which  are  butchers'  stalls,  and  the  third 
a  gin-palace. 

Below  Nottingham,  on  the  Trent,  here  a  pretty  and  romantic 
stream,  there  is  a  largo  estate  known  as  Colwick  Hall.  It  is 
the  property  of  the  Musters  family,  and  the  burial-place  of 
Mary  Chaworth.  During  the  reform  riots  in  the  town  some 
years  ago,  at  which  time  Nottingham  Castle  was  burned,  the 
mob  set  fire  to  Colwick  Hall,  but  did  not  destroy  it.  Mrs. 
Musters  was  driven  from  the  house,  and  took  refuge  in  the 
wood  on  the  estate.  From  the  fright  and  exposure  during  the 
night,  she  contracted  a  fever  which  soon  terminated  her  existence. 
She  is  buried  in  Colwick  Church,  an  old  ivy-clad  edifice  imme- 
diately adjacent  to  the  hall,  and  her  tomb  is  an  object  of  fre- 
quent visit  by  tourists.  She  left  four  children,  two  of  whom 
arc  living :  one  of  them  a  daughter,  now  married — and  the  other 
a  son,  a  clergyman  of  the  Established  Church.  The  eldest,  who 
would  have  been  heir  to  the  joint  estates  of  herself  and  husband, 
died  a  few  years  ago,  leaving  a  son,  who,  by  the  death  of  his 
grandfather,  is  lord  of  the  manors  of  Annesley  and  Colwick. 

The  elder  Musters  was  a  great  huntsman,  and  from  all  ac- 
counts very  much  of  a  brute.  He  was  a  tyrant  to  the  poor, 
which  explains  the  visit  of  the  mob  to  his  hall.  It  is  currently 
reported  in  Nottingham  that  he  frequently  used  personal  violence 
towards  his  wife,  and  more  than  once  beat  her  severely.  He  died 
about  two  years  ago  on  his  own  estate,  not  much  regretted,  but  a 
good  deal  despised,  and  now  lies  buried  at  the  side  of  his  wife  in 
his  family  vault  at  Colwick  Church. 

A  lady  of  Nottingham,  who  was  well  acquaiuteil  with  Mary  Cha- 
worth, gave  me  some  particulars  in  the  life  of  that  lady  and  of  her 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  77 

husband  worthy  of  note.  She  stated  that  Musters  was  one  of  the 
most  finished  libertines  of  his  day,  and  had  been  guilty  of  crimes 
which  would  have  consigned  any  other  man,  less  fortunate,  to 
the  gallows.  He  was  a  man  of  fine  appearance,  and  to  that 
circumstance  he  owed  his  success  in  winning  the  heart  of  Mary 
C  ha  worth.  He  was  a  gambler,  a  horseracer,  a  spendthrift,  and  a 
bully,  and  has  been  known  to  outrage  women  frequently.  No 
female  escaped  his  eye,  no  matter  to  what  family  she  belonged, 
and  even  young  girls  were  the  objects  of  his  base  passions.  His 
wife  was  aware  of  his  conduct,  and  lived  a  most  wretched  life  in 
consequence  of  his  treatment,  and  was  scarcely  ever  known  to 
smile.  She  was  a  heart-broken  woman  for  years,  and  acknow- 
ledged that  she  suffered  justly  for  her  indifference  to  Byron. 
She  no  doubt  loved  the  poet  ardently,  and  never  received  com- 
pany after  his  death. 

When  my  informant  was  a  little  girl,  Mary  Chaworth  would 
send  for  her  when  in  Nottingham,  and  never  left  the  town  with- 
out seeing  her.  The  calm  face  of  the  lady  was  impressed  upon 
the  memory  of  the  child,  and  to  this  day  she  has  a  distinct  re- 
collection of  its  sweetness  and  sad  expression. 

^'Was  she  really  handsome?"  I  asked,  being  under  the  im- 
pression that  the  ''poet  might  have  seen  Helen's  beauty  in  a 
brow  of  Egypt,"  and  given  to  a  person  of  moderate  personal  at- 
tractions the  color  of  his  wishes  and  romantic  dreams. 

"I  have  seen,"  said  she,  "many  lovely  and  admired  females — 
females  whose  beauty  has  been  the  subject  of  fame,  but  none  of 
them  surpassed  or  even  equalled  Mary  Chaworth.  She  was  one 
of  the  loveliest  of  women,  but  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most 
unhappy." 

Musters  was  always  in  debt,  and  his  estate  was  pawned  for 
years  for  the  payment  of  his  gaming  obligations,  which  amounted 
in  several  different)^  years  to  £40,000  or  $200,000  per  annum. 
He  was  in  the  habit  of  quarrelling  with  the  peasantry,  and  when 
he  met  with  poachers  on  his  land  he  would  beat  them  unmerci- 
fully. On  one  occasion  he  fell  in  with  one,  and  made  a  ring  for 
a  fight.     The  poacher  entered,  and  as  he  was  a  scientific  boxer  he 

7* 


78  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

flogged  Musters  to  his  heart's  content.  The  bully  thanked  the 
peasant  for  his  dressing — swore  he  was  a  gentleman — took  him 
to  his  hall — treated  him,  and  became  his  firm  friend. 

Colwick  Church  is  the  very  place  of  burial  for  a  poet's  love.  It 
is  craped  in  ivy,  overshadowed  by  trees  gray  with  age.  Near  it 
flows  one  of  the  finest  of  England's  streams,  and  the  soft  flowing 
waters  of  the  pensive  river  murmur  a  dirge  over  the  grave  of  Mary 
Chaworth  as  they  kiss  the  sod  near  which  she  sleeps.  To  the 
last  she  bore  the  ancestral  title,  and  with  her  died  the  once  pow- 
erful family  and  name  of  Chaworth.  Such  is  a  portion  of  the 
history  of  two  beings  who  have  been  immortalized  by  the  genius 
and  passion  of  Byron ;  and  it  is  strange  that  their  characters 
should  have  been  so  opposite,  and  the  life  of  the  one  so  unhappy. 

When  I  was  in  Nottingham,  there  was  great  misery  among  the 
working  classes.  In  passing  through  Annesley  Park,  I  was  ac- 
costed by  four  stout  young  men,  who  asked  me  for  money  to  ob- 
tain bread.  Their  appearance  forbade  the  idea  of  their  being 
regular  beggars,  and  I  made  some  inquiries  as  to  who  and  what 
they  were.  They  informed  mc  that  they  were  hosiery  weavers 
or  knitters,  but,  owing  to  the  depressed  state  of  the  trade,  were 
unable  to  find  employment.  I  gave  them  what  I  could  spare, 
and  asked  them  to  sit  down,  and  tell  me  some  of  the  particulars 
of  their  distress.  Three  of  the  four  were  married.  Neither  of 
them  had  been  at  work  for  full  six  weeks,  and,  when  they  were 
employed,  their  earnings  did  not  exceed  seven  shillings  per  week, 
and  oftentimes  it  fell  far  short  of  that  sum.  They  told  mo 
that  there  were  hundreds  of  men  in  Nottingham  starving,  and 
they  themselves  had  not  had  a  regular  meal  for  some  days.  Their 
appcarnnco  was  favorable,  and  their  plain  unvarnished  story  bore 
no  evidence  of  falsehood.  They  were  willing  and  anxious  to 
work,  and  revolted  at  the  thought  of  turning  beggars;  but  starva- 
tion stared  them  in  the  face,  and  they  must  either  beg  or  steal; 
and  thieves  they  wore  not.  I  parted  with  them,  deeply  impressed 
with  their  wretched  condition. 

The  next  day,  as  I  was  leaving  a  shop  where  I  had  been  to 
make  a  few  purchases,  I  was  stopped  by  three  men  who  asked  for 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  79 

alms.  They  were  honest-looking  fellows,  and  no  one  could  doubt 
their  willingness  to  work.  They  said  they  were  what  are  called 
"  cut-ups/^  and  could  not  get  employment.  They  confirmed  the 
statement  of  the  first  persons  I  met  as  to  wages  and  the  deplora- 
ble condition  of  the  trade. 

At  a  meeting  held  at  the  Corn  Exchange  in  the  town  on  Fri- 
day evening,  June  6,  1851,  on  the  depressed  state  of  the  hosiery 
trade,  a  gentleman  resident  in  Nottingham  stated  "  that  there 
were  two  hundred  and  fifty  married  men  in  the  drawer  and  shirt 
business,  destitute  of  employment,  all  of  them  with  families  of 
four  persons  on  the  average,  each,  which  would  make  one  thou- 
sand persons  in  want  of  bread.  With  reference  to  the  next 
branch,  the  ^  cut-ups,^  there  were  five  hundred  individuals  out  of 
work,  none  of  whom  had  the  means  of  procuring  food,  and  putting 
them  on  the  same  average  as  the  others,  there  were  two  thousand 
persons  lacking  the  necessaries  of  life.  They  had  passed  through 
such  panics  before,  but  arising  from  very  difi"erent  causes  to  those 
now  in  operation,  such  as  high  provisions  and  scarcity  of  money. 
But  here  they  were  in  the  height  of  what  was  denominated  free 
TRADE  !  Cheap  bread  and  a  starving  population  !  '  He  was  a 
free  trader,'  but  human  nature  was  human  nature,  and  how  de- 
grading when  their  necessities  could  not  be  supplied  one  way,  to 
see  men  perambulating  the  town,  and  going  from  house  to  house 
asking  alms,  while  they  were  willing  to  work  if  they  could  obtain 
work.  Had  an  honest  born  man  any  right  to  be  reduced  to  such 
a  position  V 

Another  speaker,  a  working  man,  said  that  there  were  three 
thousand  glove-knitters  in  the  counties  of  Nottingham,  Leicester, 
and  Derby,  but  of  these  not  more  than  two  hundred  were  anything 
like  fully  employed.  Five  hundred  or  six  hundred  earned  on  an 
average  from  five  to  seven  shillings  per  week,  while  there  were 
several  hundreds  more  who  could  not  earn  more  than  from  two  to 
four  shillings  in  that  time.  In  the  village  of  Bulwell,  there  were 
more  glove  hands  than  in  Nottingham.  And  among  six  hundred 
glove-makers  at  that  place,  there  were  not  above  eighty  who  got 
anything  like  six  shillings  per  week ;  and  the  same  result  would 
bo  found  in  every  district  of  the  manufacture. 


80  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIOHWAYJ 

Such  was  the  deplorable  and  starving  state  of  an  honest  class  of 
industrious  men,  in  one  of  the  finest  towns  of  England,  at  a  time 
when  the  great,  glorious,  and  magnanimous  British  nation  was 
prosecuting  a  war  against  savages  in  a  distant  section  of  the  world, 
at  a  cost  of  £3000  per  day ;  and  at  the  same  time  upbraiding  and 
taunting  Americans  with  slavery !     Consistency,  thou  art  rare  ! 


CHAPTER   VII. 

DERBY — LONDON — INCIDENTS  AND  REMARKABLE  PLACES. 

A  LONG  walk  of  a  sunny  day  tires,  especially  when  the  pedes- 
trian is  alone;  and,  although  green  hedges  surround  him,  and  fine 
scenery  occasionally  blesses  his  vision  if  the  sun  have  full  sway, 
he  is  not  likely  to  enjoy  his  ramble.  From  Nottingham  to 
Derby  was  a  dull  journey,  because  of  the  heat  and  my  companion- 
less  situation.  I  plodded  on  over  a  smooth  road,  gazing  on  all  that 
was  worth  looking  at,  but  did  not  stop  once  in  my  walk  of  six- 
teen miles.  The  inns  in  the  villages  and  on  the  road-side  had  no 
attractions  for  me,  and  I  passed  the  *^Duke  of  Wellington"  as  care- 
lessly as  I  did  the  "  Spotted  Cow,"  or  "  Fox  and  Hounds."  I  felt 
the  want  of  company.  Some  one  to  converse  with  would  have  been 
a  relief,  for  then  the  long  miles  would  have  grown  shorter,  and 
the  prospects  doubly  admired.  Shakspeare  told  a  home  truth 
when  he  put  into  the  mouth  of  one  of  his  characters  these  lines : — 

"  The  high,  wild  lulls,  and  rough  uneven  ways, 
Draw  out  our  miles,  and  make  them  wearisome; 
And  yet  your  fair  discourse  hath  been  as  sugar, 
Making  the  hard  way  sweet  and  delectable." 

1  wanted  a  companion  in  that  stroll  to  sweeten  the  toil  of  travel, 
but  found  none.  The  sparrows  and  wagtails  were  disposed  to  be 
sociable  at  times,  but  I  met  with  no  mortal  fit  for  my  purpose. 
The  peasants  were  either  too  stupid  or  too  boorish  to  converse,  and 
as  I  encountered  no  persons  but  them,  I  made  no  acquaintance. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  81 

The  road  was  pleasant  in  places  where  it  crossed  a  bright 
stream  or  sinuous  canal,  and  the  artificial  watercourses  over  which 
I  passed  were  quite  as  romantic  as  the  rivers.  Skylarks  soared 
heavenward  from  the  meadows,  piping  their  mellow  notes  from 
their  skyey  thrones  when  far  beyond  my  vision,  and  seeming  glad 
in  their  song.  But  still  the  heat  was  intolerable  to  me  under  a 
weighty  knapsack,  and  the  larks  only  crossed  my  path  occasion- 
ally. When  their  notes  were  hushed,  my  load  grew  heavy,  and 
I  was  well  pleased,  at  last,  to  behold  the  beautiful  town  of  Derby. 
I  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  Derwent,  and  plodded  my  way  to  an 
inn,  where  I  found  refreshment  and  comfortable  quarters. 

The  town  had  a  clean  aspect,  and  its  old  ivy-curtained  church 
and  pretty  main  street,  its  beautiful  and  chaste  semi-cathedral 
and  splendid  public  garden,  supplied  the  void,  in  my  mind,  of 
the  companion  I  desired  in  the  early  part  of  the  day.  I  like 
the  ^lace;  it  is  pretty — or  was  when  I  was  there;  and  then, 
my  old  landlady  was  a  kind  motherly  dame,  who  treated  me 
in  an  affectionate  manner,  which  fact  caused  me  to  overlook 
every  defect  the  town  possessed.  Narrow  crooked  streets,  clown- 
ish butchers,  and  other  things  of  a  like  nature  that  might  be 
objectionable  to  some,  were  not  so  to  me  because  of  the  goodness 
of  mine  hostess.  Benevolent  old  lady !  she  had  a  sweet  temper 
and  an  affectionate  heart,  and  love  for  all  mankind — even  for 
Frenchmen,  those  terrible  fellows,  about  whom  nurses  tell  stories 
for  frightening  children  to  sleep  in  England. 

I  was  anxious  to  get  to  London ;  a  day  in  Derby  was  sufficient 
for  my  purpose,  and  I  determined  to  go  to  the  metropolis  "by 
rail."  The  station  at  the  town  is  among  the  largest  in  Great 
Britain,  and  quite  imposing.  While  waiting  for  a  train,  I  amused 
myself  by  looking  over  the  cheap  publications  on  a  book-stand 
within,  and  found  the  works  of  quite  a  number  of  my  countrymen 
there.  Cheap  editions  of  Cooper's  novels;  "Salmagundi"  and 
"  Sketch-Book"  Melville's  Island  tales;  Longfellow's,  Willis's,  and 
Bryant's  poems;  and  the  productions  of  other  authors  of  note.  I 
might  increase  the  list  to  a  catalogue,  but  the  above  enumeration 
will  suffice.  Bancroft's  "  History  of  the  United  States"  appeared  to 
be  in  demand,  and  the  salesman  told  me  the  work  sold  well.  It  had 


82  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

just  made  its  appearance  in  cheap  form,  and,  like  Macaulay's 
"  England"  with  us,  went  off  rapidly,  but  not  to  the  pecuniary  ad- 
vantage of  the -author.  I  thought  the  publication  of  it  a  recip- 
rocal act,  and  if  neither  historian  gets  money  by  the  reprinting 
of  his  productions  in  other  lands,  each  is  read  more  and  becomes 
more  famous — two  things  quite  agreeable  to  some  writers. 

The  train  was  a  good  one,  and  on  we  dashed.  Green  fields 
fled  by,  towns  were  passed  rapidly,  and  early  in  the  afternoon  of 
a  summer's  day,  I  arrived  in  London.  My  fellow-travellers  were 
sociable,  and  disposed  for  conversation;  but  I  preferred  being  a 
listener  to  a  participant.  In  a  discussion  which  arose  between 
them,  reference  was  made  to  America,  when  one  quickly  replied, 
"A  pretty  land  of  freedom,  where  they  have  slaves  in  chains, 
and  scourge  them  to  death  I"  This  man  afterwards  entered  into 
conversation  with  me,  and  when  he  learned  where  I  was  from,  im- 
mediately began  to  lecture  me  on  slavery.  I  told  him  that  it  was 
an  aifair  of  our  own ;  that  we  generally  managed  to  mind  our  own 
business;  and  I  did  not  think  his  preaching  would  amount  to  much. 
He  stopped,  and  asked  me  whether  expressing  an  opinion  con- 
cerning the  institution  was  wrong.  "Most  decidedly,"  said  I, "  when 
it  is  done  in  the  manner  you  have  done  it.  Now,  the  very  first 
thing  you  spoke  to  me  about,  after  you  ascertained  where  I  was 
from,  was  slavery.  You  do  not  know  whether  I  own  slaves  or 
not;  and  what  's  more,  you  know  nothing  of  slavery  in  Americ^i, 
as  your  remarks  a  few  minutes  ago  fully  testify."  I  told  him  that 
such  persons  as  he  had  done  more  to  perpetuate  the  institution  in 
the  United  States  than  all  the  slave-holders  in  the  country,  and 
that  his  philanthropy  would  be  better  employed  in  trying  to  reme- 
dy the  condition  of  the  poor  Irish  than  in  interfering  with  a  nation 
and  an  institution  of  which  he  evidently  knew  nothing.  At  this 
time,  the  train  dashed  into  a  tunnel  of  a  mile  or  more  in  length. 
Darkness  suspended  the  conversation  until  the  cars  emerged  from 
the  cavern,  when  I  remarked  tliat  the  subject  was  a  black  one,  and 
I  hoped  the  veil  just  drawn  over  it  would  remain.  He  acquiesced, 
and  changed  the  topic.  I  continued  with  him  until  the  end  of 
the  journey,  and  when  we  parted  he  "hoped  he  would  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  me  again." 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  83 

Ou  my  first  entrance  into  London,  the  roar  of  its  crowded 
streets,  accustomed  as  I  am  to  cities,  deafened  me.  I  plodded 
my  way  along  its  thronged  thoroughfares  as  much  astonished  as  a 
rustic  who,  for  the  first  time,  visits  a  market-town.  The  history 
of  certain  localities  had  been  impressed  upon  my  mind  for  years, 
and  when  I  turned  into  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  it  seemed  like  the  reali- 
zation of  a  dream.  Hoiborn  Hill  and  Newgate  Street — the  Old 
Bailey,  and  "Paul's  stupendous  dome" — all  reminded  me  of  my 
school-boy  days,  and  the  old  English  time.  I  got  down  into  the 
city,  and  almost  up  to  the  crowning  work  of  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  before  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  mighty  edifice.  It  dis- 
appointed me.  Cramped  in  among  a  forest  of  bricks  and  mortar, 
it  looked  the  merest  pigm}'',  compared  w^ith  what  I  had  expected. 
But  the  surrounding  localities  repaid  me  for  my  disappointment. 
I  sauntered  along  Cheapside,  Paternoster  Row,  Ludgate  Hill,  and 
many  other  streets  fresh  in  the  memory  of  the  student  of  English 
history  and  literature.  St.  Paul's  churchyard  is  "  classic  ground.'* 
Childs'  celebrated  Coffee-House  was  located  on  that  street,  and  it 
was  there  that  Addison  and  his  literary  contemporaries  were  wont 
to  resort  for  relaxation  and  social  enjoyment. 

In  ascending  the  hill  from  the  Old  Bailey  up  Newgate  Street,  I 
met  several  boys  dressed  in  the  costume  of  a  forgotten  age.  Long 
blue  coats,  reaching  down  to  their  feet,  yellow  stockings,  brown 
velvet  short-clothes,  and  shoes  with  buckles,  constituted  their  ap- 
parel. They  were  without  hat  or  cap;  and  on  they  loitered,  per- 
fectly indifferent  to  the  gaping  stranger.  I  rubbed  my  eyes  and 
began  to  think  that,  like  Rip  Van  Winkle,  I  had  just  waked  up 
from  a  nap  of  years  in  duration.  No  !  there  were  those  boys  in 
that  ancient  dress.  I  slowly  moved  on — a  few  steps -brought  me 
to  an  iron  railing  through  which  a  number  of  curious  persons 
were  gazing.  I  looked  within  the  inclosure,  and  saw  hundreds  of 
lads  in  the  same  costume  worn  by  those  I  had  just  met.  Some 
of  them  had  their  long  coats  tucked  up  under  a  leathern  girdle, 
which  goes  around  the  waist ;  and  their  nether  extremities  looked 
oddly  enough,  encased  in  yellow  hose.  All  were  bareheaded;  and 
some  romped  and  shouted,  while  others  formed  two  and  two,  and 
with  arms  around  each  other's  waist  promenaded,  undisturbed,  the 


84  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

vast  court-yard,  unheeding  and  unheeded  save  by  the  curious 
crowd.  They  looked  like  children  of  a  past  age;  and  now  con- 
stitute a  link  between  the  present  and  the  olden  time.  They 
"were  the  scholars  of  the  celebrated  ^'Blue  Coat  School,"  or 
Christ's  Hospital,  the  place  where  S.  T.  Coleridge  and  Charles 
Lamb  were  educated. 

It  was  nearly  night  when  I  reached  St.  Martin's-le-Grand,  and 
the  streets  were  crowded  to  excess.  Almost  every  description  of 
vehicle  rushed  along  the  thoroughfares,  and  torrents  of  human 
beings  poured  down  the  sounding  avenues.  Bustle  and  confusion 
frighted  the  air,  and  stunned  me.  I  sought  out  lodgings,  but 
could  not  sleep — the  noise  was  continuous  and  eternal.  The  day 
encroached  upon  the  night,  and  before  the  night  had  passed  the 
clash  of  wheels  again  shook  the  quivering  air.  I  arose  early,  and 
looked  from  my  window.  Directly  opposite  was  a  sign  bearing 
a  classic  inscription,  "0,  Rare  Ben  Jonson;"  and  Aldersgate 
Street  lay  before  me.  I  had  been  dozing  on  famous  ground,  and 
the  ghosts  of  departed  authors,  no  doubt,  disturbed  my  slumbers. 
A  short  distance  below  me  was  Little  Britain,  and  near  by  Bar- 
tholomew's Close.  "  Shade  of  Franklin  V  thought  I,  '<  and  do  my 
wandering  feet  tread  the  soil  of  London  once  trodden  by  thine  ? 
I  plucked  some  grass  from  thy  grave  in  Philadelphia;  I'll  leave 
it  with  some  admirer  of  thine  in  Little  Britain." 

I  had  no  appetite  for  mutton-chops  and  hot  rolls ;  the  desire  to 
visit  St.  Paul's  was  paramount,  and  destroyed  that  for  breakfast. 
A  slight  repast  was  sufficient  at  the  time,  and  then  I  sallied  forth. 
The  tremendous  pile  could  not  be  mistaken,  although  it  disap- 
pointed me  at  first.  The  best  views  I  could  obtain  of  it  in  the 
city  were  from  Ludgato  Hill  and  St.  Martin's-le-Grand,  near  the 
Post-Office.  From  other  points  no  sight  could  be  had  sufficiently 
grand;  a  portion  was  all  that  could  be  seen,  and  that  was  limited. 

I  wended  my  way  through  old  and  uninviting  streets  to  the 
Thames,  and  soon  gained  a  position  on  Blackfriar's  Bridge,  from 
which  a  fine  prospect  was  presented.  The  dome  rose  in  peerless 
grandeur  above  the  surrounding  dwellings,  and  appcan>d  to  gaze 
down  upon  them  with  a  consciousness  of  its  glorious  proportions 
and  immense  altitude;  but  it  was  black  and  dingy.     The  coal 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  85 

smoke  has  penetrated  the  porous  stone,  and  discolored  it  horribly. 
The  statues  of  the  apostles  which  adorn  the  exterior  of  the  edi- 
jBce  are  considerably  worn  by  the  action  of  the  weather,  and  the 
whole  of  the  giant  structure  without,  looks,  to  one  who  has  been 
accustomed  to  fine  white  buildings,  as  if  it  had  recently  suffered 
from  the  smoke  of  a  long- continued  neighboring  fire,  and  no  effort 
had  been  made  to  clean  it. 

But  the  splendid  edifice  attests  the  magnitude  of  the  mind  of 
its  originator,  and  gives  evidence  of  his  genius.  When  you  look 
up  to  its  stupendous  dome,  a  feeling  of  awe  comes  over  you,  and 
you  are  disposed  to  glorify  the  man  whose  brain  conceived  it.  The 
every-day  passer  regards  it  not;  but  the  stranger — he  who  comes 
thousands  of  miles  to  behold  it — gazes  with  admiration,  and  goes 
away  with  its  form  indelibly  stamped  on  his  memory,  and  an 
opinion  of  the  godlike  powers  of  man  impressed  upon  his  mind, 
of  which  he  never  dreamed  before. 

It  is  a  triumphant  achievement  of  art;  and  well  may  England 
be  proud  of  the  gem.  The  interior  is  impressive  and  grand;  the 
dome  vaults  above  the  spectator  like  another  sky,  and  the  admi- 
rable proportions  and  uniformity  of  design  of  every  portion  please 
and  elevate  the  mind. 

I  sauntered  into  the  vast  structure  with  feelings  akin  to  rever- 
ence, and  felt  a  thrill  of  admiration  shoot  through  my  frame 
when  I  gazed  upwards  to  the  cupola.  Sir  James  Thornhill's 
famous  paintings  were  scarcely  perceptible,  and  the  figures  were 
indistinct,  but  the  architecture  was  all  sublime.  Sir  Christopher's 
works  stand  to  this  day  as  firm  and  beautiful  as  when  first  erected, 
and  time  adds  to  their  grandeur.  But  why  not  keep  them  clean  ? 
Dust  covers  the  capitals  within,  and  there  is  not  one  of  the  many 
splendid  statues  in  St.  Paul's  that  is  not  shrouded  in  the  same 
material.  Crowds  of  people  were  there  gazing  upon  the  splendid 
sculpture,  and  vergers  were  pointing  out  the  monuments  of  the 
distinguished  to  strangers;  but  no  one  could  tell  why  the  dust  was 
suffered  to  accumulate  on  the  figures  of  marble,  the  Corinthian 
capitals,  and  along  the  galleries  and  stairs.  It  is  said  that  the 
cathedral  was  paid  for  by  a  tax  On  every  chaldron  of  coal  brought 
into  London  during  the  time  of  its  construction;  and  it  deserves  to 
8 


86  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

wear,  as  it  does,  a  smoky  coat  without,  and  a  dusty  one  within. 
It  looks  as  though  the  tax  were  still  collected,  in  kind. 

The  monuments  are  numerous  and  generally  classic  and  elegant, 
but  the  inscriptions  are  not  all  truthful.  General  Ross,  who  was 
killed  at  Baltimore,  is  stated  to  have  fallen  in  a  successful  attack 
on  the  American  lines,  which  is  a  sUyht  deviation  from  the  actual 
facts  of  the  case,  as  every  schoolboy  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic 
knows.  The  crypt  contains  the  graves  of  Nelson,  Collingwood, 
and  a  host  of  England^s  distinguished  painters,  among  which  is 
that  of  Benjamin  West. 

Divine  service  is  performed  daily  in  the  choir  and  chapel,  but 
the  attendance  is  never  large,  the  choristers  and  officials  gene- 
rally greatly  outnumbering  the  congregation.  During  the  Exhi- 
bition, the  visitors,  who  were  in  the  building  at  the  time  of  service, 
usually  remained,  but  they  were  indifferent  to  the  ceremonies,  and 
only  curious  as  to  the  music  and  beauties  of  the  choir.  The  boys 
engaged  in  chanting  were  talented,  and  sang  sweetly,  but  not 
much  can  be  said  for  their  behavior  or  respect  for  the  sanctuary 
in  which  they  stood.  Some  of  them  were  exceedingly  ill-behaved, 
and  quite  unfit,  so  far  as  conduct  went,  for  the  solemn  duties 
required  of  them. 

Westminster  Abbey  and  Poet's  Corner  have  more  attractions 
for  me  than  any  other  places  in  Europe,  excepting  the  Eternal 
City.  I  felt  peculiar  sensations  of  pleasure  in  treading  their 
sacred  precincts.  The  monuments  of  so  many  persons  of  distinc- 
tion as  there  meet  the  eye  are  to  bo  seen  nowhere  else  in  Eng- 
land ;  and  the  halo  shed  over  those  tombs  by  both  the  living  and 
the  dead  has  given  the  place  a  celebrity  as  wide  as  the  confines  of 
earth;  There  repose,  within  a  few  paces  of  each  other,  the  remains 
of  men  who  have  shed  undying  lustre  on  the  literature  of  Great 
Britain,  and  the  genius  of  sculpture  and  poesy  has  been  taxed  to 
adorn  their  tombs.  The  ashes  of  Addison  rest  undisturbed  in  the 
same  aisle  in  Henry  the  Seventh's  chapel  where  repose  those  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  an  evidence  of  the  high  appreciation  the  English 
people  have  for  him  who  reflected  and  wrote  so  well  upon  the 
lesson  one  learns  in  contemplating  the  tombs  of  the  great.     The 


OR,  WANDERTNaS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  87 

dusty  monuments  of  long- forgotten  heroes,  and  men  of  warlike 
distinction  of  former  ages,  had  no  attractions  for  me.  They,  like 
the  ashes  of  those  whose  memories  they  were  erected  to  commemo- 
rate, are  mouldering  into  dust,  and  their  inscriptions  are  becoming 
illegible.  In  the  south  aisle  of  Henry  the  Seventh's  chapel  is  a 
gorgeous  tomb  over  the  remains  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  while 
in  the  adjoining  aisle,  to  the  north,  under  a  splendid  monument, 
moulder  those  of  her  tyrannical  and  imperious  persecutor,  Eliza- 
beth. Charles  the  Second  is  buried  in  a  vault  near  the  last  resting- 
place  of  the  unfortunate  Mary,  and  the  ashes  of  William  of  Orange 
and  his  queen  mingle  with  those  of  the  "Merry  Monarch." 

The  sculpture  in  Poet's  Corner  is  generally  most  excellent. 
That  to  Addison,  Gray,  Thomson,  Milton,  and  Shakspeare  ap- 
peared to  be  the  best.  Busts  of  Southey  and  Dryden  beautify 
the  place,  and  an  admirable  tablet  to  the  memory  of  that  great 
scholar.  Goldsmith,  attracts  attention.  Immediately  above  it  is  a 
glorious  stained  window,  the  most  superb  in  London.  The  in- 
scriptions are  various,  and  some  of  them  labored.  One,  on  the 
tomb  of  Gay,  written  by  himself,  struck  me  as  too  trifling  : — 

<'Life  is  a  jest,  and  all  things  show  it; 
I  thought  so  once,  and  now  I  know  it." 

The  statue  of  the  Bard  of  Avon  holds  a  scroll  in  one  hand,  on 
which  are  engraved  those  beautiful  lines  from  the  Tempest — 

<'The  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherits  shall  dissolve. 
And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
Leave  not  a  wreck  behind." 

How  appropriate  and  how  true!  The  reflecting  man  might 
pass  hours  in  contemplation  among  the  tombs  of  Westminster 
Abbey ;  but  it  would  be  folly  and  presumption  in  me  to  attempt 
to  moralize  in  a  place  about  which  Addison  and  Irving  have 
written  so  well. 

The  other  monuments  are  numerous,  but  beyond  a  splendid 
statue  to  Mrs.  Siddons,  and  one  to  her  celebrated  brother,  John 
Kemble,  there  are  but  few  deserving  mention  on  account  of  those 


88  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

they  are  erected  to  immortalize,  and  they  are  chiefly  meritorious 
only  as  works  of  art. 

The  "  Tower  of  London"  is  one  of  the  lions  of  the  city,  and  no 
man  is  a  true  traveller  unless  he  visits  it.  The  first  thing  you 
meet  with  in  that  celebrated  place  is  a  demand  for  a  shilling, 
after  the  payment  of  which,  you  are  handed  over  to  the  care  of 
one  of  a  dozen  burly  fellows,  called  by  the  Londoners  "beef- eaters," 
who  are  dressed  in  the  costume  of  soldiers  of  the  days  of  Henry 
the  Seventh.  Myself  and  companion  were  shown  through  the 
galleries  of  armor,  where  there  was  a  large  quantity  of  implements 
of  war,  ancient  and  modern,  and  a  host  of  figures  of  men  and 
horses  in  suits  of  mail.  We  visited  the  cells  of  Sir  "Walter  Ra- 
leigh and  Lady  Jane  Grey,  and  were  shown  the  axe  which  severed 
the  heads  of  the  three  Scottish  lords  from  their  bodies  for  taking 
part  in  the  rebellion  raised  by  the  Pretender  in  1745.  The  block 
on  which  they  were  beheaded  was  also  exhibited,  and  the  cells  in 
which  they  were  imprisoned.  We  saw  several  inscriptions  in  the 
dungeons,  which  had  been  made  by  those  incarcerated  there,  and 
entered  one  of  the  gloomy  abodes.  The  prisons  of  Anne  Boleyn 
and  the  Earl  of  Essex  were  shown  us,  and  the  world-renowned 
place  of  execution,  on  which  spot  some  of  the  worst  and  some  of 
the  best  blood  of  England  has  been  poured  out.  The  graves  of 
the  victims  are  in  and  around  the  chapel,  within  the  walls,  but 
of  late  years  the  inscriptions  on  the  tombs  have  been  removed ; 
the  acts  they  recorded  being  considered  disgraceful  to  the  nation. 
Tower  Hill,  from  which  the  people  formerly  witnessed  the  pun- 
ishment of  state  criminals,  is  still  an  open  space,  commanding  a 
full  view  of  the  former  place  of  execution. 

The  room  in  which  the  crown  jewels  are  kept  is  in  one  of  the 
new  towers,  built  since  the  fire  a  few  years  ago.  An  old  woman 
has  charge  of  the  treasures,  and  it  is  her  duty  to  describe  them  to 
visitors.  In  a  space  less  than  two  feet  square  there  is  jewelry 
valued  at  £3,000,000,  or  nearly  $15,000,000.  The  crowns  are 
splendid,  and  that  of  Victoria  sparkles  with  precious  stones.  The 
English  are  very  proud  of  the  show,  and  take  great  delight  in 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  89 

witnessing  the  astonishment  of  foreigners  who  express  surprise 
and  admiration  at  the  value  and  splendor  of  the  regal  baubles. 

The  buildings  of  London  are  far  from  attractive.  The  most 
celebrated  edifices  look  black  and  disfigured,  and  many  of  them 
are  so  covered  with  dust  and  smoke  as  to  make  them  appear  to 
great  disadvantage.  The  Bank  of  England  and  Post-Office  look 
fine  on  paper;  but,  when  viewed  as  they  are,  they  have  but  few 
attractions.  The  greater  part  of  the  houses  are  built  of  a  coarse 
yellowish-brown  brick,  and  not  one  of  them  will  compare  favora- 
bly with  the  dwellings  of  Philadelphia  or  New  York.  The  "  West 
End,"  renowned  the  world  over,  as  the  most  superb  part  of  the 
city,  is  as  dingy  in  many  places  as  the  large  warehouses  in  the 
business  parts  of  our  large  cities.  Kegent  Street,  reputed  to  be 
the  finest  thoroughfare  in  England,  is  not  remarkable  for  beauty, 
and  if  it  were  not  for  the  semicircular  form  it  takes  at  the  point 
known  as  the  Quadrant,  would  compare  unfavorably  with  Broad- 
way in  the  Empire  City.  The  smoke  blackens  every  structure, 
and  destroys  what,  in  a  clear  atmosphere,  would  be  regarded  as 
splendid.  The  principal  edifices  are  constructed  of  Portland  stone, 
a  species  of  white  granite,  inferior  in  point  of  wear  to  our  coarsest 
marble,  and  quite  easily  soiled.  These  remarks  apply  more  par- 
ticularly to  the  older  parts  of  London. 

The  Tunnel  is  the  most  remarkable  work  about  London,  and 
well  worth  a  lengthened  visit.  It  is  used  only  for  foot-passen- 
gers, and  those  are  mostly  strangers  who  visit  out  of  curiosity. 
One  thoroughfare  is  closed,  and  at  a  particular  part  partitioned 
off  into  a  room,  in  which  balls  are  given  on  specified  evenings. 
The  arches  leading  from  one  passage  to  the  other  are  occupied  with 
stands  for  the  sale  of  fancy  and  useful  articles,  and  at  each  entrance- 
shaft  there  are  exhibitions  of  pictures.  The  view  along  the  ave- 
nues is  very  fine,  and  as  the  walls  are  white  and  the  passages  are 
brilliantly  lighted  with  gas,  the  effect  is  both  strange  and  pleasing 
when  the  way  is  thronged  with  people.  The  Tunnel  is  twelve 
hundred  feet  long,  and  as  it  extends  some  distance  on  either  side 
of  the  river,  a  person,  from  this  fact,  can  form  a  tolerable  idea  of 

8* 


90  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHW AY  ; 

the  width  of  Father  Thames,  a  stream  by  no  means  so  contempt- 
able  as  Americans  pretend  to  regard  it. 

The  British  Museum  contains  an  immense  collection  of  speci- 
mens of  two  of  the  natural  Kingdoms — Animal  and  Mineral — and 
it  is  also  rich  in  ancient  and  modern  art.  The  Elgin  and  other 
marbles  are  numerous;  but  I  do  not  see  the  utility  of  dragging  the 
broken  fragments  of  Grecian  temples  to  the  metropolis  of  Britain, 
and  converting  them  into  a  show.  The  classic  ruins  of  that  great 
land  should  be  permitted  to  moulder  on  her  hills  and  among  her 
deserted  cities.  It  may  be  excusable  to  dig  from  the  earth  the 
remains  of  the  proud  city  of  Nineveh,  and  take  them  to  the  capital 
of  a  nation  devoted  to  Christianity,  as  an  evidence  of  the  accuracy 
of  the  Scriptures ;  but  many  of  the  splendid  edifices  of  the  land  of 
Homer  still  face  the  storms  and  gales  of  the  ^gean  Sea,  and  there 
all  the  products  of  the  chisel  of  that  immortal  land  should  be  per- 
mitted to  remain. 

Near  London  Bridge  is  the  monument  erected  to  commemorate 
the  great  fire  of  1665.  It  rises  to  the  height  of  202  feet,  and  is 
built  of  Portland  stone.  The  inscriptions  are  in  Latin,  and  quite 
lengthy.  The  one  charging  the  origin  of  the  conflagration  to  the 
Catholics  of  that  day  has  been  erased  some  years,  Pope's  cutting 
lines  having  done  much  to  remove  the  slander : — 

*'  Where  London's  column,  pointing  at  the  skies, 
Like  a  tall  bully  lifts  its  head,  and  lies !" 

The  view  from  the  top  is  not  very  fine,  and  scarcely  repays  a  per- 
son for  climbing  up  three  hundred  and  eleven  steps. 

The  old  localities  celebrated  on  account  of  some  remarkable 
event  are  but  little  known  to  the  citizens  of  London,  and  the 
stranger  who  has  studied  the  literature  of  England,  and  the  lives 
of  her  distinguished  authors,  is  likely  to  know  more  of  the  his- 
tory of  particular  places  than  one  born  in  the  city.  Numbers 
of  the  inhabitants  who  are  now  old  have  never  been  in  the 
Tower,  or  St.  Paul's,  and  but  few  can  point  out  the  locality  of 
the  famous  T}  burn.     Little  Britain,  once  the  residence  of  pub- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  Or  AN  AMERICAN.  91 

lisliers  and  booksellers,  is  changed,  and  Paternoster  Kow  en- 
joys its  honorable  trade.  It  was  one  of  the  many  London  homes 
of  Milton,  and  our  Franklin  lodged  in  it  during  his  first  stay  in 
the  metropolis.  He  then  worked  as  a  journeyman  printer  in 
Palmer's  printing-office,  at  Bartholomew's  Close,  near  at  hand. 
Grub  Street,  a  name  once  associated  with  everything  vile  in 
literature,  has  suffered  an  extraordinary  change,  and  at  present  is 
called  after  the  author  of  Paradise  Lost.  This  is  bespattering 
the  sublime  with  the  ridiculous  most  unaccountably,  and  chang- 
ing all  that  is  base  and  low  in  the  literary  world  to  all  that  is 
ennobling  and  grand.  I  visited  St.  Giles'  Church,  Cripple  Gate, 
the  burial-place  of  Milton,  and  of  Fox,  the  author  of  the  Book 
of  Martyrs.  It  is  a  dingy  old  building,  in  an  ancient  part  of  the 
city,  and  remarkable  for  being  the  church  in  which  Oliver  Crom- 
well was  married.  Not  far  from  my  residence,  which  was  in 
Little  Britain,  is  Bunhillfields  Burial-Ground,  the  receptacle  of 
the  dead  during  the  ravages  of  the  great  plague  of  1665.  Defoe, 
the  author  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  historian  of  that  terrible 
calamity,  is  buried  there,  in  the  spot  whose  horrors  he  described 
so  graphically;  and  in  the  same  place  reposes  all  that  is  mortal 
of  John  Bunyan,  the  author  of  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  The 
tombs  in  this  renowned  charnel  are  so  numerous  that  it  appears 
impossible  to  find  room  for  another  grave.  I  never  saw  so  many 
in  one  spot  before.  Bunyan  was  buried  in  the  vault  of  a  friend 
in  whose  house  he  died,  and  the  tomb  over  his  grave  has  been  so 
much  worn  by  the  action  of  the  weather  as  to  obliterate  the  in- 
scriptions placed  there  when  it  was  erected.  In  one  side  of  the 
structure  a  marble  tablet  has  been  inserted,  on  which  is  inscribed 
*^Mr.  John  Bunyan,  Author  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Obit. 
31  August,  1688.  Mt.  60."  Other  persons  of  celebrity  are 
interred  there,  among  whom  are  George  Fox,  the  founder  of  the 
sect  of  Quakers,  and  Susannah  Wesley,  mother  of  John  Wesley, 
the  founder  of  Methodism  •  and  Dr.  Watts,  the  Christian  poet, 
whose  hymns  are  sung  wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken. 
Gray's  Inn  Fields,  in  olden  times  the  fashionable  promenade  of 
a  summer's  evening,  is  now  one  of  the  most  secluded  retreats  in 
London.     The  square  is  situate  in  the  heart  of  the  metropolis. 


92  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

and  one  of  the  approaches  is  through  Fulwood's  Rents,  now  the 
squalid  habitation  of  some  of  London's  most  miserable  poor.  The 
days  of  the  "  Tattler"  and  "Spectator"  are  gone;  but  the  walks  in 
Gray's  Inn  Fields  are  as  pleasant  now  as  they  were  when  Addi- 
son and  his  contemporaries  were  accustomed  to  enjoy  themselves, 
under  the  bending  boughs  of  the  oaks  and  elms  which  shade  that 
green  retreat. 

The  public  gardens  and  squares  of  the  great  city,  aside  from 
the  parks,  are  numerous,  and  at  the  fashionable  or  West  End 
mostly  abound.  I  have  walked  for  miles  around  and  through 
these  pleasant  places,  and  always  found  them  welcome  resorts. 
Portman,  Cavendish,  Grosvenor,  Berkley,  and  Leicester  Squares 
arc  all  worthy  a  visit  for  their  beauty,  and  the  admirable  order  in 
which  they  are  kept.  Connaught  Square,  the  Tyburn  of  old,  is 
one  of  the  prettiest  places  of  residence  in  the  modern  Babylon. 
It  was  there  that  the  bones  of  Cromwell  were  exposed  and  hung 
in  chains,  after  they  were  torn  from  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  on  that  spot  the  Maid  of  Kent  was 
burned  for  disputing  with  some  divines  upon  a  point  of  doctrine. 

During  a  visit  to  Hyde  Park,  I  had  a  iook  at  Prince  Albert 
and  the  Queen.  They  were  in  an  open  carriage  drawn  by  four 
cream-colored  horses,  and  attended  by  outriders  and  couriers  in 
advance.  The  Queen  is  a  homely  little  woman,  with  an  amiable 
expression  of  countenance,  and  not  much  like  the  portraits  we 
see  of  her.  Her  husband  is  one  of  the  finest-looking  men  in 
England,  of  easy,  graceful  manners,  and  a  face  indicative  of  a  well 
cultivated  mind  devoid  of  ambition.  Ho  does  not  exhibit  any 
marks  of  care,  but  on  the  contrary  looks  the  very  picture  of  happi- 
ness and  content.  Among  the  English  people  he  is  highly  es- 
teemed, and  without  the  cares  of  state  or  the  enmity  of  political 
opponents,  he  enjoys  the  love  and  confidence  of  the  nation.  The 
crowds  in  the  park  showed  great  respect  to  the  royal  couple, 
which  was  acknowledged  by  frequent  bows  from  the  prince. 

Whitehall,  the  palace  in  former  days  of  the  English  kings, 
and  the  place  whore  Charles  the  First  was  executed,  is  now  but 
little  used,  and  only  interesting  on  account  of  its  historical  asso- 
ciations. In  the  court-yard  there  is  a  bronze  statue  of  James  the 
Second,  as  great  a  tyrant  as  his  father,  and  who  ought  to  have 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  93 

shared  the  same  fate,  "  without  the  reputation  of  a  martyr."  It 
was  in  front  of  the  building  to  the  north  that  Charles  lost  his 
head,  and  by  authentic  statements  it  appears  that  the  scaffold 
was  erected  before  the  building  facing  the  present  Horse  Guards, 
and  the  king  was  led  to  execution  through  a  window  of  the 
Banqueting  House,  which  is  pointed  out  to  this  day.  The  palace 
has  suffered  by  fire  on  several  occasions,  and  has  not  been  used 
for  a  royal  residence  for  some  years.  ^ 

The  Royal  Exchange,  Cornhill,  is  the  most  chaste  building  in 
London  of  modern  construction.  In  this  edifice  are  the  celebrat- 
ed mercantile  rooms  of  the  Lloyds.  The  list  of  American  news- 
papers on  file  there  is  meagre  in  the  extreme,  there  not  being  more 
than  three  or  four  in  all,  and  not  one  of  them  from  Phila- 
delphia. In  the  vestibule  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  leading  to 
these  rooms,  are  two  or  more  fine  statues,  and  in  the  wall  of  the 
same  apartment  is  a  tablet  erected  to  commemorate  the  public 
spirit  and  zeal  of  the  proprietors  of  the  London  ''Times,''  in  ex- 
posing a  great  commercial  fraud  a  few  years  since. 

Westminster  Hall,  in  Palace  Yard,  is  one  of  the  most  re- 
nowned buildings  in  the  world.  It  is  two  hundred  and  ninety 
feet  in  length  and  sixty-eight  feet  in  breadth,  and  the  roof  is  sup- 
ported without  a  single  column.  It  is  highly  ornamented  with 
carved  oak  and  chestnut,  and  the  view  from  one  extreme  to  the 
other  is  most  imposing.  It  was  within  its  walls  that  Charles 
Stuart,  tyrant  of  England,  was  convicted  and  sentenced  to  die. 
There  Sir  William  Wallace,  Sir  Thomas  More,  and  the  Earl  of 
Strafford  were  condemned  and  doomed  to  the  scaffold;  and  in 
that  hall  Oliver  Cromwell  was  inaugurated  Lord  Protector  of 
England.  Warren  Hastings  was  tried  there;  and  there  the  head 
of  Cromwell  was  raised  on  a  pole,  after  his  remains  had  been  torn 
from  the  grave,  and  beside  it  were  placed  the  skulls  of  Ireton  and 
Bradshaw,  as  an  evidence  of  the  attachment  of  the  British 
people  to  royalty,  and  their  hatred  of  him  who  had  raised  their 
country  from  a  mere  dependency  to  a  position  where  it  was  feared 
and  respected  by  the  nations  of  the  earth.  It  is  now  the  vestibule 
to  the  new  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  on  special  occasions  it  is  used 


94  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

as  a  banaueting-room  by  the  royal  family  and  nobility  of  the 
realm. 

Guildhall,  the  principal  scat  of  city  legislation  in  London,  is 
famous  for  two  enormous  wooden  statues  of  frightful  appearance, 
called  Gog  and  Magog.  There  is  also  a  very  good  marble  statue 
of  the  celebrated  Lord  Mayor  Beckford,  represented  in  the  act  of 
politely  bearding  George  the  Third.  On  a  tablet  under  the  figure 
« is  a  scroll,  on  which  is  engraved  the  speech  delivered  on  that  occa- 
sion to  the  king.  On  the  ninth  of  July,  1851,  her  Majesty,  the 
Queen  of  the  British  realms,  honored  the  city  of  London  with  a 
visit  to  Guildhall,  at  which  place  a  ball  was  given  by  the  Lord 
Mayor,  in  celebration  of  the  Great  Exhibition.  For  some  days 
previously  preparations  were  begun  for  the  royal  reception,  and 
at  night  the  streets  which  formed  the  line  of  procession  were  one 
blaze  of  light.  The  Horse  Guards  were  placed  along  the  line  to 
aid  the  police  in  keeping  the  way  clear  and  preserving  order,  and 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  people  were  out  to  witness  the  show. 
I  stood  in  Cheapside,  near  St.  Paul's,  to  see  the  gracious  sovereign 
pass,  and  at  about  half-past  nine  her  approach  was  announced. 

There  were  seven  carriages  in  the  train,  each  one  adorned  with 
gilding  in  profusion;  and  servants  in  costly  livery,  with  gold 
laced  cocked  hats,  hung  like  ornaments  to  the  glittering  chariots. 
The  Queen  and  the  Prince  consort  occupied  the  last  one  in  the 
retinue,  which  was  surrounded  by  a  detachment  of  the  Horse 
Guards,  who  made  a  splendid  show  in  their  glittering  armor  and 
uniforms.  The  carriages  passed  so  rapidly  that  it  was  next  to 
impossible  to  see  her  Majesty,  and,  as  I  had  been  favored  with  a 
look  at  her  on  a  previous  occasion,  I  was  not  disappointed.  The 
utmost  enthusiasm  prevailed  among  her  loyal  subjects,  and  when 
she  made  her  appearance  many  of  them  testified  their  admiration 
and  loyalty  by  taking  off  their  hats,  while  others  were  busily  en- 
gaged in  picking  pockets,  as  the  police  records  of  the  next  day 
clearly  showed.  Bow-bells  and  the  chime  in  St.  Paul's  rang 
merrily  out  during  the  evening,  and  the  music  of  their  peals  was 
heard  above  the  roar  of  the  sounding  streets  of  London.  The 
foolish  custom  of  closing  the  gates  of  Temple  Bar,  and  requiring 
the  monarch  to  knock  for  admission,  was  omitted  on  this  occasion 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  95 

for  the  first  time  for  many  years.  The  Arcli  is  the  only  remain- 
ing bar  of  the  many  which  once  adorned  the  walls  of  London.  It 
is  at  the  point  where  Fleet  Street  and  the  Strand  join,  and  the 
western  boundary  of  the  city.  In  olden  days  it  was  there  that 
the  heads  of  criminals  were  placed  after  execution. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

LONDON  THOROUGHFARES — SOCIETY — THE  PARKS — ^'THE 

world's  fair.'' 

The  streets  of  the  metropolis  are  almost  constantly  crowded 
with  vehicles  and  pedestrians ;  nor  does  this  remark  apply  only  to 
those  thoroughfares  in  the  fashionable  or  business  parts  of  the 
city.  In  rambling  about  London,  a  person  will  meet  a  continuous 
tide  of  people,  and  the  cross  streets  are  nearly  as  much  traversed 
as  the  main  avenues.  The  population  is  immense,  and  the  num- 
ber of  strangers  very  great,  so  that  nearly  all  places  of  amusement 
are  well  attended.  Omnibuses  are  countless,  and  run  from  an 
early  hour  in  the  morning  until  long  after  midnight;  and  as  they 
branch  off  from  central  points  to  every  important  suburb  and 
neighboring  village,  intercourse  between  the  business  portions  of 
London  and  the  metropolitan  boroughs  is  rapid  and  cheap.  They 
are  substantially  built  conveyances;  nor  would  it  do  to  have  them 
slight,  as  they  would  be  jarred  to  pieces  soon  if  they  were- 
Each  one  has  a  driver  and  conductor,  both  of  whom  are  absolutely 
required,  in  consequence  of  the  construction  of  the  'busses,  and  the 
amount  of  travel  by  them.  There  are  seats  on  top  as  well  as 
inside,  and  many  prefer  the  outside  in  clear  weather,  because  of 
the  opportunities  it  affords  for  observation. 

There  is  but  little  observance  of  the  Sabbath  in  London  by  the 
working  classes — that  being  as  much  of  a  gala-day  there  as  in 
New  Orleans.  Omnibuses,  steamboats,  and  railways  give  the  tired 
denizens  of  the  unfashionable  portions  a  conveyance  to  the  coun- 


96  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

try,  where  they  can  breathe  the  fresh  air,  and  enjoy  the  clear  sun- 
shine. Omnibuses,  cabs,  and  private  carriages  are  more  numerous 
in  some  parts  of  the  city  on  that  day  than  any  other,  and  although 
business  is  suspended  generally,  the  hurry  and  bustle  going  on  in 
the  streets  do  not  convey  to  the  mind  of  the  stranger  much  evi- 
dence of  the  day  being  the  Sabbath.  All  go  civilly  on,  however, 
and  personal  encounters  or  disturbances  are  of  rare  occurrence, 
the  police  being  sufficient  to  intimidate  the  riotously  inclined. 

The  parks  of  London  deserve  the  attention  of  the  stranger  as 
much  as  any  other  objects  of  interest  in  the  metropolis.  The 
largest  ones  are  not  so  beautiful  as  some  of  those  with  fewer  acres, 
but  all  are  splendid  resorts.  The  trees  are  large,  and  as  they  are 
principally  oaks  and  elms,  their  branches  extend  so  as  to  form 
leafy  arcades  for  a  great  distance.  People  are  permitted  to  ramble 
over  the  grass,  and  it  is  not  unusual  to  see  them  lying  down  under 
the  trees,  reading,  or  asleep.  Care  has  been  taken  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  oaks  and  elms,  and  they  are  mostly  planted  at  given 
distances  apart,  in' a  straight  line,  thus  forming  an  arbor  of  great 
beauty.  Of  a  Sunday  evening,  Kensington  Gardens  is  thronged 
with  the  citizens  of  the  West  End,  and  as  it  is  decidedly  the  finest 
park  in  London,  it  is  the  most  resorted  to.  Hyde  Park  is  attached 
to  the  gardens,  but  it  is  not  so  well  cared  for.  It  is  the  fashionable 
resort  of  the  "  exclusives''  of  the  metropolis,  and  one  part  is  ap- 
propriated solely  to  equestrians,  while  another  is  used  for  carriages. 
The  display  at  the  customary  hour  is  great.  Ladies  are  as  nume- 
rous as  gentlemen,  and  liveried  servants  outnumber  even  them. 
The  road  for  equestrians  is  usually  crowded  to  excess,  and  it  would 
embarrass  one  to  tell  how  a  lady  finds  enjoyment  in  such  a  thronged 
thoroughfare,  on  horseback.  Before  the  fashionable  hour  arrives, 
if  the  weather  is  dry,  water  is  sprinkled  along  the  road  to  lay 
the  dust,  but  the  mud  created  in  that  way  appeared  to  mc  to  be 
worse  than  any  dust  possibly  could  be.  The  horses  are  splashed 
with  it,  and  not  unfrequently  the  ladies  and  gentlemen.  The 
carriages  are  usually  attended  by  two  servants,  dressed  in  livery, 
mounted  on  the  box,  or  one  on  the  box  and  the  other  hanging  on 
behind  like  an  ornament.  These  men  arc  generally  good  looking; 
but  their  want  of  independence,  as  exhibited  in  their  dress,  is  re- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  97 

pulsive.  They  are  to  bo  met  in  every  variety  of  outlandish  cos- 
tume, from  yellow  coats  and  cocked  hats,  trimmed  with  gold  lace, 
red  short-clothes,  and  powdered  wigs,  down  to  genteel  black,  and 
neatly  tied  white  cravats,  and  cockades  pinned  to  their  hats. 
In  some  instances,  a  person  will  meet  a  lady  and  gentleman  on 
horseback  riding  leisurely  along,  while  at  a  short  distance  behind, 
mounted  on  a  fine  horse,  follows  one  of  those  liveried  menials, 
with  about  as  much  spirit  as  a  whipped  cur.  Several  times  I 
have  seen  them  asleep  on  their  carriages,  in  front  of  the  door  of 
a  princely  mansion,  or  while  waiting  in  line  at  Regent's  Park. 

Cattle  and  sheep  in  great  numbers  are  frequently  seen  in  the 
principal  parks,  and  oftentimes  there  are  as  many  as  eight  or  nine 
thousand  sheep  pasturing  at  once  in  one  of  those  inclosures. 

The  Zoological  Gardens  in  the  last-named  ground  are  kept  in 
admirable  order,  and  the  collection  of  animals  is  both  extensive 
and  various.  There  are  specimens  of  natural  history  from  every 
section  of  the  world,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  surprise  that  animals 
from  warm  climates  live  and  thrive  so  well  in  English  air  as  those 
do  in  Regent's  Park.  The  hippopotamus  and  "  uran  utan"  (as 
they  will  have  the  orthography  of  the  name)  appear  to  exist 
there  as  healthfully  as  they  do  in  their  native  climes.  In  our 
tour  of  observation,  we  discovered  several  acquaintances  from  our 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  not  the  least  familiar  of  which  was  that  perti- 
nacious and  eccentric  "Old  'Coon."  Poor  fellow!  he  looked  thin 
and  downcast,  English  fogs  by  no  means  agreeing  with  his  con- 
stitution. 

Saturday  afternoon  is  a  favorite  time,  among  the  wealthy  and 
titled,  for  visiting  the  Zoological  Gardens,  and  then  and  there  the 
stranger  has  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  refined  society  of  Lon- 
don. Good  conduct,  gentle  behavior,  and  suavity  of  manner 
characterize  the  gentlemen,  and  all  that  contributes  to  the  eleva- 
tion of  female  character  is  discoverable  in  the  ladies.  The  mem- 
bers of  noble  families  have  little  or  none  of  that  affected  pomp 
about  them  that  distinguishes  the  upstart  and  imitative  apes  of 
aristocracy ;  and  it  requires  but  a  small  amount  of  penetration 
on  the  part  of  the  observer  to  discover  who  is  the  real  and  who 
the  spurious  noble.  The  imitation  nearly  always  exposes  his  vul- 
9 


98  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGUWAY  ; 

garity,  while  the  genuine  ever  exhibits  the  breeding  of  a  true 
gentleman.  Among  the  ladies  in  the  gardens  at  the  time  of  our 
visit,  there  were  some  of  remarkable  beauty,  and  nearly  all  of 
them  were  fine  figures. 

The  band  of  one  of  the  favorite  regiments  was  present,  and  per- 
formed many  splendid  pieces  in  masterly  style.  The  presence  of 
that  musical  corps  always  attracts  a  large  company  to  the  Zoolo- 
gical Gardens. 

The  great  metropolis  is  a  Pandemonium !  The  noise  of  its 
streets  is  eternal,  and  the  throngs  which  pour  down  its  roaring 
thoroughfares  are  continual.  I  have  wandered  over  and  around  it, 
from  the  splendid  mansions  of  the  West  End  to  the  abodes  of 
squalid  wretchedness  and  crime  in  Spitalfields  and  Shoreditch. 
There  is  every  variety  of  life  within  its  limits,  from  the  highest  to 
the  lowest,  and  people  of  every  nation  and  clime.  The  two  ex- 
tremes of  the  immense  city  are  admirable  illustrations  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  aristocracy,  and  of  the  degraded  and  ignorant  poor. 
The  one  is  all  splendor,  and  the  apparent  abode  of  content;  the 
other  a  den  of  misery  and  want.  Thousands  of  strangers  visit 
London,  and  confine  themselves  to  Regent  Street,  Piccadilly,  and 
Oxford  Road,  without  even  thinking  of  Whitechapel  or  the  more 
wretched  localities  in  the  neighborhood  of  Iloundsditch.  When 
a  man  travels  for  information,  he  should  see  the  high  and  low  of 
society  in  the  lands  he  visits,  and  then  he  will  be  better  able  to 
form  opinions  of  the  exact  condition  of  a  people.  He  who  seeks 
grandeur  may  go  to  the  palaces  of  the  rich,  and  drink  in  inspira- 
tion by  gazing  upon  the  splendid  productions  of  the  pallet  and  the 
chisel;  and,  if  he  desires,  he  can  lounge  of  an  afternoon  on  the 
green  sward  of  Regent's  or  Hyde  Park,  and  witness  a  display  of 
finery  and  aristocratic  pomp  not  to  be  seen  in  any  other  section  of 
the  world  in  such  grand  array.  If  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  over- 
grown city  were  in  as  good  circumstances  as  those  to  bo  met  at 
these  places  on  such  occasions,  then  would  London  be  a  happy 
place,  and  the  residents  a  contented  people.  But  such  is  far  from 
being  the  case.  Take  an  afternoon  walk,  and  follow  Bishopsgatc 
Street  to  Shoreditch,  turn  oflf  into  White  Lion  Street,  and  follow 
up  until  you  roach  Grey  Eagle  and  Wilkes  Street,  and  a  different 


99 

prospect  from  that  witnessed  in  Hyde  Park  will  meet^  your  gaze. 
Silk  of  splendid  color  is  there;  but  it  is  in  the  loom  of  the  poor 
half-starved  Spitalfields  weaver,  who  works  from  dawn  until  near 
midnight  over  the  costly  fabric,  for  a  miserable  pittance,  in  a  hovel 
of  filth  and  wretchedness.  There  are  no  persons  in  livery  there, 
no  gold-fringed  coats,  or  powdered  wigs,  but  barefooted  women 
and  men,  and  human  beings  clothed  in  rags  so  tattered  as  to  cause 
one  to  wonder  how  they  are  kept  together.  The  streets  are  as 
filthy  as  the  houses,  and  there  is  not  a  blade  of  grass  or  a  park  in 
the  neighborhood.  On  one  of  the  streets  adjoining  there  is  a 
school-house  for  the  young,  but  compared  with  the  Queen's  stables 
it  is  a  pigsty,  and  her  Majesty's  prancing  horses  receive  more 
care  and  have  better  sleeping  apartments  than  her  loyal  subjects 
in  the  unfashionable  streets  of  Spitalfields.  After  the  visitor  has 
satisfied  his  curiosity  in  the  localities  named,  let  him  return,  and 
pass  down  Long  Alley,  a  narrow  passage  about  six  feet  wide,  to 
the  west  of  Bishopsgate  Street,  and  there  he  will  see  another  phase 
of  life  at  the  East  End  of  the  greatest  city  in  the  world,  and  then 
he  may  go  to  one  of  the  parks  at  the  fashionable  part  of  the  me- 
tropolis, but  not  with  the  favorable  opinion  of  the  people  of  Lon- 
don he  entertained  before  visiting  the  classic  quarter  of  Shoreditch. 

Misery,  poverty,  and  want  have  always  existed  in  large  cities, 
and  must  continue  under  the  present  social  system ;  but,  for  all, 
much  could  be  done  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  poor  of  the 
English  metropolis,  if  those  who  have  it  in  their  power  to  do  so 
would  only  try. 

The  customs  of  some  of  the  people  of  the  ^'  wen  of  England," 
as  Cobbett  called  it,  are  not  such  as  we  would  desire  to  imitate. 
It  is  not  unusual  to  see  men  walking  the  streets  with  ladies,  and 
puffing  the  smoke  of  most  abominable  tobacco  into  the  faces  of 
their  fair  companions.  The  weed  is  not  masticated  as  with  us, 
and  he  who  chews  is  not  esteemed  very  highly,  but  cigar  and  pipe- 
smoking  is  common,  and  carried  to  great  extremes. 

Gin-palaces  abound  throughout  the  city,  and  men  and  women 
resort  to  them  in  vast  numbers.  They  are  generally  provided  with 
two  entrances ;  one  for  those  who  drink  the  liquor  on  the  premises, 
the  other  for  those  who  purchase  it  for  home  use.     The  signs  in- 


100 

form  the  public  which  is  the  "jug  entrance,"  and  which  the  com- 
mon reception-room,  while  the  stranger,  who  is  curious  in  such 
affairs,  can  learn  that  Mr.  Smith,  Wine  and  Spirit  Merchant 
(they  are  all  merchants),  is  licensed  to  sell  rum  in  doses  from  a 
half-pennyworth  to  a  gallon  or  more.  Many  women  resort  to  these 
dens,  and  it  is  not  unusual  to  see  them  drinking  their  half-and- 
half  with  as  much  gusto  as  the  most  practised  male  topers.  The 
class  usually  found  there  is  not  of  degraded  persons  such  as  we 
would  expect  to  see,  but  those  who  have  pretensions  to  respecta- 
bility in  their  sphere  of  life,  and  many  of  them  are  mechanics  and 
small  tradesmen.  Ale,  or  beer,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  is  the 
ordinary  drink  of  the  people.  Water  is  not  much  used  as  a  beve- 
rage, and  the  one  who  calls  for  a  glass  of  that  fluid  in  an  eating- 
house  in  London  is  looked  at  with  surprise.  The  water  used  in 
the  metropolis  for  domestic  purposes  has  a  bad  taste,  and  it  is  rea- 
sonable to  conclude  that  much  of  the  ale-drinking  results  from  this 
fact. 

The  habit  of  drinking  spirituous  and  malt  liquors  is  carried  to 
great  excess,  and  there  are  many  families  among  the  better  or 
middle  class  of  artisans  and  shopkeepers  who  keep  gin  and  other 
alcoholic  distillations  in  the  house  constantly.  Gin  and  hot  water, 
sweetened,  is  a  very  common  beverage  with  that  class,  and  it  is 
not  only  drank  by  the  men,  but  by  women  also.  It  is  a  house- 
hold drink  on  festive  occasions  or  social  gatherings,  and  all  par- 
take of  it. 

To  give  my  readers  some  idea  of  the  extent  of  the  retail  liquor 
trade  in  the  metropolis,  I  will  state  that  a  publican,  doing  a  snwil 
business  in  the  city,  informed  me  that  he  usually  sold  5S0  galhms 
of  gin  in  ten  weeks  nlonc,  and  otlior  licjuors  in  proportion.  His 
place  was  small,  and  he  could  count  thirty  gin-palaces  beside  his 
own  in  a  circuit  of  a  hundred  yards  around  him.  He  paid  nearly 
$18,000  for  the  stand  ho  occupies,  with  a  lease  of  about  forty 
years'  duration.  That  is  for  the  good-will  1  His  rent  and  taxes 
amount  to  a  considerable  sum  annually.  The  premiums  demanded 
and  paid  for  some  of  these  establishments  are  enormous,  and  almost 
incredible.  One  of  them  was  sold,  while  I  was  in  London,  for 
$40,000;  and  tho  lease  had  but  thirty  years  to  run,  after  which 


101 

time  the  house  will  revert  to  the  owner,  unless  the  purchaser  of 
the  good- will  and  custom  can  get  a  renewal.  This  sum  was  paid 
as  a  premium ;  the  buyer  is  under  an  annual  rent  of  $700,  in  ad- 
dition to  his  taxes  and  other  expenses,  and  yet  it  was  believed 
that  he  would  realize  money  from  the  speculation ;  and  when  we 
reflect  that  the  poison  is  sold  to  poor  wretches  in  penny  and  three- 
penny glasses,  some  idea  can  be  formed  of  the  intemperate  habits 
of  a  large  portion  of  the  London  poor,  and  the  enormous  profits  of 
the  venders  of  intoxicating  drinks.  The  taxes  imposed  upon  the 
English  people  by  their  rulers  are  heavy,  but  nothing  in  amount 
to  those  they  impose  upon  themselves  for  rum. 

The  churches  of  London,  in  earlier  days,  were  the  burial-places 
of  distinguished  persons,  and  there  are  but  few  of  the  old  ones 
without  monuments  to  eminent  or  celebrated  individuals.  Gold- 
smith is  buried  in  Temple  Churchyard.  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Mon- 
tague, the  witty  correspondent  of  Pope,  and  Wilkes,  the  dema- 
gogue, in  the  vault  of  Grosvenor  Chapel,  in  South  Audley  Street; 
and  Otway,  the  poet,  in  St.  Clement's  Danes,  a  church  in  the 
Strand,  between  Temple  Bar  and  Charing  Cross.  Nell  Gwynne, 
the  originator  of  Chelsea  Hospital;  and  James  Smith,  one  of 
the  authors  of  "Rejected  Addresses,'^  are  buried,  among  a  num- 
ber of  others,  in  St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields,  a  very  pretty  building 
if  it  were  possible  to  keep  it  clean.  Every  Friday  the  Charity 
Children  of  the  Parish,  male  and  female,  sing  anthems  in  the 
choir,  and  the  music  of  their  youthful  voices  is  sweet  enough  to 

"Create  a  soul 
Under  the  ribs  of  Death." 

Among  the  multitude  of  places  in  London,  having  some  little 
historic  interest,  is  Smithfield  Common,  the  spot  where  John 
Rogers  was  burned,  and  Sir  William  Wallace  and  the  gentle 
Mortimer  executed.  Wat  Tyler  was  killed  there ;  and  a  host  of 
wretches  suffered  death  on  that  spot  by  fagot  and  flame,  for 
opinion's  sake.  Smith 6eld  market-place  is  one  of  the  filthiest 
parts  of  London.  Parliament  recently  decided  to  remove  the 
stalls,  and  provide  a  new  inclosure  for  the  sale  of  cattle.  In 
front  of  the  space,  to  the  south,  stands  St.  Bartholomew's  Hoa- 

9* 


102  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

pital,  founded  in  1102;  over  the  main  entrance  to  which  is  a 
good  statue  of  that  royal  bloodhound  and  memorable  brute, 
Henry  the  Eighth. 

In  1849,  during  the  digging  for  a  new  sewer,  at  the  depth  of 
three  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  earth,  the  workmen  laid  open 
a  mass  of  rough  stones  blackened  as  if  by  fire,  and  covered  with 
ashes,  and  human  bones  charred  and  partially  consumed.  This 
was  on  the  spot  where  the  authorities  used  to  cause  the  victims  of 
persecution  and  bigotry  to  be  put  to  death,  and  the  remains  found 
were,  no  doubt,  those  of  persons  who  died  by  fire  and  fagot  on 
this  celebrated  place  of  execution. 

Chelsea  Hospital  is  situated  on  the  Thames,  about  five  miles 
from  London  Bridge,  and,  as  the  boats  running  to  that  institution 
pass  under  all  the  bridges,  a  good  view  is  afforded  from  the  river 
of  many  objects  which  cannot  be  seen  to  advantage  from  any 
other  point.  The  houses,  with  very  few  exceptions,  are  built 
immediately  on  the  river  on  both  sides,  leaving  no  space  or 
wharves  as  with  us.  The  new  houses  of  Parliament  are  so  situ- 
ated; as  is  also  the  famous  Somerset  House.  The  bridges  are 
noble  structures,  with  a  single  exception,  at  the  city;  but,  as  the 
stream  lessens  greatly  in  width  as  you  approach  Chelsea,  the  via- 
ducts become  less  imposing  and  less  extensive.  London  Bridge 
is  constantly  filled  with  vehicles  and  pedestrians,  making  a  con- 
tinuous stream  from  morning  till  night.  The  others  are  but  very 
little  loss  traversed,  and  Southwark  Iron  Bridge  and  Blackfriars 
are  always  thronged  with  people.  The  view  of  the  river  from 
the  deck  of  a  steamer,  looking  down  stream,  is  of  a  singular 
character.  Probably  no  river  in  the  world  presents  such  a 
strange  appearance  for  so  great  a  distance.  Prom  below  London 
Bridge,  the  Thames  is  literally  swarming  with  craft  of  every  de- 
scription known  to  the  commercial  and  marine  world,  and  it  often 
puzzles  the  uninitiated  how  the  little  steamers  which  ply  up  and 
down  the  river  manage  to  make  their  trips  without  being  run 
into  and  sunk.  Sometimes  the  space  through  which  they  are 
compelled  to  go  is  barely  wide  enough  to  admit  them  to  pass,  and 
yet  they  arc  so  admirably  navigated  that  no  accident  of  a  serious 


OR,  WANDERINaS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  103 

character  ever  occurs.  They  are  much  crowded  during  clear  wea- 
ther by  excursionists  to  the  different  places  on  the  stream. 

In  company  with  an  American  friend,  I  made  an  agreeable  trip 
to  Chelsea,  and  although  the  Thames  is  both  black  and  narrow, 
we  saw  many  objects  on  shore,  as  we  ascended,  to  interest  us. 
Lambeth  Palace,  the  ancient  residence  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  on  the  Surrey  side,  is  noted  for  being  the  prison  of 
the  Lollards,  the  first  Dissenters  in  the  days  of  John  Wickliffc, 
and  that  fact  hallows  the  pile.  Chelsea  Hospital  was  founded  by 
Nell  G Wynne  and  Charles  the  Second  for  old  and  disabled  Eng- 
lish soldiers,  and  at  present  there  are  several  hundred  supported  in 
the  institution*.  In  the  chapel  and  hall  a  great  many  trophies  are 
displayed  which  were  taken  in  battle  in  different  sections  of  the 
world  by  the  British  army,  and  I  noticed  a  number  of  American 
flags  among  them.  They  were  captured  by  the  English  at  Bladens- 
burg  and  Washington  in  1814,  and  although  they  are  the  only 
conquests  made  by  British  arms  upon  our  soil,  still  it  would  be 
better  that  they  were  not  where  they  are.  The  colors  of  other 
nations,  however,  adorn  the  walls,  and  some  of  Napoleon's  proudest 
banners  are  exhibited  as  trophies  from  Waterloo.  The  old  men 
are  well  provided  for,  and  appear  comfortable.  They  grumble  for 
the  want  of  something  else  to  do,  and  as  their  days  are  short,  and 
grumbling  is  the  only  thing  they  are  fit  for,  they  are  permitted 
to  indulge  in  that  to  their  heart's  content. 

The  rapid  increase  of  London,  and  its  great  extent,  are  proved 
by  the  fact  that  Chelsea  Hospital,  a  few  years  ago,  was  out  of 
town,  while  now  the  city  extends  considerably  beyond  it,  and 
many  of  the  finest  residences  in  the  metropolis  are  in  that  neigh- 
borhood. By  the  last  census  it  appears  that  London  has  in- 
creased four  hundred  and  thirteen  thousand  inhabitants  in  the 
past  ten  years. 

This  extent  is  wonderful.  From  Nottinghill  in  the  west,  to 
Bow  Common  in  the  east,  both  of  which  are  suburbs  properly,  is 
a  distance  of  quite  thirteen  miles,  the  entire  line  of  which  is 
compactly  built  with  dwellings,  stores,  churches,  and  other  public 
edifices.  Taking  the  number  of  miles  above  mentioned  as  the 
actual  diameter  of  London,  we  find  that  the  great  city  has  a 


104  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGnWAY  ; 

circumfcrenco  of  nearly  forty  miles,  which  is  rather  below  than 
above  the  real  extent.  Hammersmith  is  in  fact  a  portion  of  the 
metropolis,  as  well  as  Ilighgate  or  Dalston,  and  add  that  to  the 
diameter,  and  it  will  be  found  to  be  full  sixteen  miles. 

The  National  Gallery  in  Trafalgar  Square  contains  some  ex- 
quisite pictures,  and  is  peculiarly  worthy  of  examination,  as  pre- 
senting one  of  the  best  collections  extant  of  the  works  of  Rem- 
brandt. Lincoln's  Inn,  and  the  Inner  Temple,  the  two  celebrated 
legal  schools  of  England,  are  attractive  places.  The  hall  of  the 
Temple  is  adorned  with  some  excellent  oak  carvings,  and  several 
old  and  valuable  paintings,  among  which  are  portraits  of  four  or 
five  of  the  English  monarchs.  The  Church  of  the  Templars  is 
the  finest  in  London.  The  floors  are  elegantly  inlaid  with  en- 
caustic tiles,  and  back  of  the  altar  there  is  a  window  of  splendid 
stained  glass.  In  the  body  of  the  building  under  the  dome  arc 
eight  or  ten  tombs  of  Crusaders,  the  figures  on  which  are  in  ex- 
cellent preservation ;  some  of  them  have  the  legs  crossed,  thereby 
indicating  that  the  persons  to  whose  memory  they  were  erected 
were  engaged  in  the  wars  in  the  Holy  Land. 

The  excursion  down  the  Thames  to  Greenwich  Hospital,  and 
Woolwich  Dock  Yards  and  Arsenal,  is  a  pleasant  trip,  affording  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  the  river  to  good  advantage.  The  stream  is 
extremely  crooked,  and  multitudes  of  vessels  ride  on  its  waters 
from  London  down  to  the  sea.  Woolwich  Dock  Yards  are  large ; 
and,  as  they  are  one  of  the  most  complete  stations  for  constructing 
naval  vessels  in  the  empire,  they  are  worthy  a  lengthened  visit. 
The  Arsenal  is  principally  filled  with  heavy  guns  and  ammuni- 
tion, there  being  comparatively  few  small-arms  there. 

At  Woolwich,  in  one  of  the  churchyards,  I  noticed  a  singular 
monument,  which  curiosity  prompted  mo  to  examine.  It  is  a 
pedestal  surmounted  by  a  colossal  figure  of  a  lion,  sculptured 
in  coarse  marble,  with  one  foot  on  the  Champion's  belt  of  Eng- 
land, and  the  head  upraised,  to  represent  the  animal  howling. 
The  main  inscription  informs  the  reader  that  Thomas  Crib,  the 
boxer,  lies  under  the  stone;  and  below  on  a  tablet  is  a  line,  call- 
ing upon  the  visitor  to  "Kospcct  the  ashes  of  the  dead."  The 
English  people  are  greatly  advanced  in  civilization,  when  they 


105 

thus  honor  sucli  promoters  of  cnligbtcnment  as  Tom  Crib,  the 
brutal  prize-fighter. 

Greenwich  Hospital  may  with  propriety  be  considered  as 
within  the  pale  of  London  now,  as  the  buildings  extend  below  it 
on  both  sides  of  the  river.  The  parks  attached  to  the  institu- 
tion are  large,  and  much  resorted  to  by  pleasure-seekers.  The 
famous  observatory  stands  on  an  eminence  in  the  park,  in  the 
rear  of  the  hospital,  commanding  an  extended  prospect  of  the 
country  around. 

Hampstead  and  Highgate,  two  elevated  points  to  the  north  of 
London,  command  extended  views  of  the  great  city.  The  dome 
of  St.  Paul's,  when  seen  from  either  place,  appears  to  the  greatest 
advantage,  and  every  object  of  interest  can  be  distinctly  traced 
during  a  clear  day.  It  was  near  Highgate  that  Whittington 
fancied  he  heard  Bow-bells  recalling  him  to  the  renowned  me- 
tropolis ;  and  the  spot  whereon  he  stood  at  the  time  he  listened  to 
the  mellowed  notes  of  the  distant  chiming  bells  is  now  marked 
with  a  stone.  Visits  to  such  places  recall  to  the  mind  of  the 
traveller  the  dreams  of  his  boyhood,  and  when  I  rested  on  the 
spot,  I  readily  summoned  before  my  mental  sight  my  ideal  form 
of  the  famous  Lord  Mayor,  as  he  was  when  debating  whether  he 
should  obey  the  summons  of  the  bells  and  return  to  London,  or  not. 

The  famous  Horse  Guards  are  a  regiment  of  mounted  men, 
who  appear  to  be  selected  more  on  account  of  their  fine  figures 
and  military  bearing  than  for  their  prowess  as  soldiers.  They 
wear  a  splendid  uniform,  with  helmets  of  burnished  steel,  breast- 
plates of  the  same  material,  white  leather  short-clothes,  deep 
scarlet-colored  coats,  high  boots,  and  gauntlets.  None  of  them 
are  under  six  feet,  and  each  flourishes  a  formidable  mustache. 
They  are  mounted  on  fiery  black  chargers,  and  when  exercising, 
present  a  magnificently  warlike  appearance.  They  are  perma- 
nently stationed  in  London  and  at  Windsor,  and  usually  perform 
the  duties  of  a  body-guard,  on  state  occasions,  to  the  sovereign 
and  Prince  consort.  Their  quarters  are  in  a  building  on  Parlia- 
ment Street  facing  Whitehall,  with  a  thoroughfare  leading  di- 
rectly into  St.  James's  Park,  and  at  each  side  of  the  entrance  two 
mounted  soldiers  keep  guard  from  ten  until  four  o'clock.     They 


106 

are  among  the  attractions  of  London,  and  nearly  always  have  a 
crowd  of  citizens  around  them  when  they  assemble  in  numbers 
at  their  quarters. 

Military  parades  are  frequent  in  the  metropolis,  and  each  morn- 
ing during  the  week  one  or  more  regiments  exercise  in  Hyde  Park. 
The  men  are,  generally  speaking,  fine-looking  fellows,  clean  and 
neat  in  appearance,  and,  when  drilling,  move  with  the  precision 
of  senseless  machinery.  Their  showy  uniforms,  waving  banners, 
glittering  arms,  and  harmony  of  step,  go  to  make  up  a  splendid 
scene,  and  the  stirring  strains  of  their  accomplished  bands  give 
the  unmilitary  beholder  some  idea  of  the  pomp  and  circumstance 
of  war.  I  often  witnessed  them  on  parade,  and  although  by  no 
means  an  advocate  of  that  sort  of  Christian  duty  which  recom- 
mends the  cutting  of  other  people's  throats  for  the  sake  of  peace, 
yet  I  must  confess  that  I  derived  much  pleasure  from  viewing  the 
military  displays  in  Hyde  Park. 

The  "  Royal  Mews,"  or  Queen's  stables,  are  among  the  London 
sights,  and  through  the  kindness  of  a  friend,  I  visited  them  in 
company  with  some  who  were,  like  myself,  curious  to  see  her 
Majesty's  horses.  The  royal  state  carriage  was  shown  us  first  as 
a  great  curiosity,  which  it  certainly  is.  It  is  large  enough  for  a 
triumphal  car,  is  ornamented  with  several  carved  figures  of  mon- 
sters and  foliated  scrolls,  and  covered  profusely  with  gilding. 
When  used,  it  is  drawn  by  eight  of  the  finest  horses  in  the  world,  of 
a  cream  color,  and  as  fiery  as  the  coursers  of  Phaeton  of  old. 

The  stables  are  capacious,  admirably  ventilated,  and  kept  scru- 
pulously clean.  The  number  of  animals  is  about  one  hundred,  all 
of  which  are  in  the  best  possible  condition.  In  one  department 
there  were  sixteen  or  twenty  stallions,  one-half  of  which  were 
black,  the  others  cream  color,  and  all  seemingly  spirited  in  the 
extreme,  though  intensely  lazy  in  the  open  air.  On  my  expressing 
a  fear  of  their  running  away  with  her  Majesty,  tlie  groom  said 
there  was  no  danger  of  that,  as  they  never  did  so,  but  lay  down 
instead,  and  when  they  once  did  get  down  were  quite  indifferent 
about  rising  until  it  suited  themselves. 

•  Among  those  in  another  section  of  the  building  was  a  splendid 
full-blooded  Arabian  horse,  sent,  as  a  present  to  Prince  Albert, 


OR,  WANDERINGS  Or  AN  AMERICAN.  107 

from  the  East  Indies.  He  is  a  noble  animal,  of  beautiful  figure, 
and  possesses  all  the  agility  and  swiftness  of  a  true  oriental 
courser. 

Among  the  many  strange  customs  which  attract  the  stranger's 
attention  in  London,  not  the  least  remarkable  are  the  funerals. 
They  are  attended  by  mutes  dressed  in  black,  with  long  scarfs 
streaming  from  their  hats,  and  wands  wreathed  with  crape  in  their 
hands.  The  hearses  are  huge  affairs,  ornamented  with  waving 
plumes,  and  drawn  by  horses  black  as  jet,  draped  in  cloth  of  the 
same  hue.  Mourners  follow  clothed  in  the  robes  of  grief,  and  ex- 
hibiting a  vast  amount  of  apparent  woe;  but,  when  close  examina- 
tion is  made,  it  is  discovered  that  the  heart-broken  and  sorrowful 
train  is  composed  of  men  hired  for  the  occasion,  and  that  there  are 
but  few,  if  any,  relatives  there,  it  being  considered  neither  fash- 
ionalble  nor  respectable  for  the  kindred  to  follow  the  dead  to  the 
grave. 

Burials  are  not  so  frequent  in  the  cities  as  formerly,  and 
although  there  are  too  many  even  now  in  London,  the  practice  of 
intermural  interment  is  very  unpopular. 

The  graves  in  most  of  the  churchyards  of  the  metropolis  are 
indifferently  cared  for.  There  is  no  attention  paid  to  keeping 
them  in  order.  The  gravestones  are  flat,  and  serve  the  double 
purpose  of  a  flagged  way  and  memorials  for  the  dead.  Fragments 
of  tombstones,  with  partially  defaced  inscriptions,  lie  about  the 
yards  promiscuously,  and  are  treated  with  as  little  respect  as  the 
memories  of  those  to  whom  they  were  erected. 

There  is  a  custom,  peculiarly  English,  which,  to  my  liking,  is 
worthy  of  our  imitation,  and  that  is  the  habit  of  erecting  tablets 
in  the  churches  to  the  memory  of  the  departed.  These  tributes 
to  worth  are  usually  placed  in  the  walls  of  the  chancel,  the  aisles, 
or  choir  of  the  edifice,  and  many  of  them  are  exquisitely  designed 
and  sculptured.  The  inscriptions  on  the  older  ones  are  generally 
prosy  and  trite,  but  those  of  more  recent  date  are  brief  and  pointed. 
The  American  takes  an  interest  in  these  records  and  monuments, 
and  I  often  found  myself  reading  over  the  epitaphs  upon  them 
when  I  should  have  been  attending  to  the  discourse  of  the  clergy- 
man.    There  is  something  solemn  and  appropriate,  according  to 


108 

my  way  of  thinking,  about  them,  placed  where  they  are  :  solemn, 
because  they  remind  us  that  we  must  die  j  and  appropriate,  be- 
cause the  memory  of  the  loved  and  just  should  be  kept  green  in 
our  hearts  when  we  meet  in  the  temple  of  God. 

There  is  scarcely  a  place  of  worship  in  London,  Dissenting  or 
State,  but  has  some  of  these  memorials  attached  to  its  walls ;  and 
T  was  often  interested  in  reading  the  records  upon  them.  Once, 
while  walking  along  Lombard  Street,  I  observed  the  door  of  St. 
Mary  Woolnoth  open,  and  as  it  is  one  of  the  old  churches,  my 
curiosity  prompted  me  to  enter,  nor  did  I  regret  my  determination. 
A  tablet  attracted  my  attention,  and  on  perusing  the  inscription, 
I  discovered  that  it  was  to  the  memory  of  John  Newton,  the 
friend  of  Cowper.  He  was  for  twenty-eight  years  rector  of  St. 
Mary's,  and  his  history,  as  recorded  on  the  stone,  is  as  follows : — 

'*  Jolin  Newton,  clerk,  once  an  infidel  and  libertine,  a  servant  of  slaves 
in  Africa,  was,  by  the  rich  mercy  of  our  Lord  iind  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
preserved,  restored,  pardoned,  and  appointed  to  preach  the  faith  he  had 
long  labored  to  destroy." 

While  speaking  of  old  churches,  I  may  be  permitted  to  give 
some  further  information  here  respecting  others,  before  unnoticed. 
There  arc  as  many  as  twelve  or  fifteen  in  the  vicinity  of  St. 
Paul's,  and  each  has  attractions,  either  in  an  architectural  or  his- 
torical point  of  view,  or  both.  One  of  them,  called  All  Hallows, 
is  famous  as  being  the  baptismal  place  of  Milton,  or  rather  on  the 
site  of  the  church  in  which  he  was  baptized,  that  edifice  being 
destroyed  in  the  great  fire.  A  stone  bearing  an  inscription,  set- 
ting forth  the  facts,  and  on  which  is  engraved  some  information 
respecting  the  birthplace  of  the  poet,  is  placed  in  the  church 
wall  at  the  corner  of  the  street  in  which  be  first  saw  the  light. 
In  the  same  vicinity,  but  nearer  to  London  Bridge,  is  St.  Swithin's 
London  Stone,  so  named  in  consequence  of  a  stone,  said  to  be  the 
oldest  in  the  metropolis,  which  is  built  into  the  wall  facing  Can- 
non Street,  and  so  placed  as  to  allow  the  curious  the  liberty  of 
touching  it.  It  is  supposed  to  bo  what  was  once  a  Koman  mile- 
stone, and  the  throne  on  which  Jack  Cado  swore  that  tho  conduit 
should  '^ruu  nothing  but  claret  wiue  this  first  year  of  our  reign." 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  109 

The  authorities  protect  it  from  mutilation,  and  the  curious  rever- 
ence and  visit  it. 

The  "  Great  Exhibition"  is  now  numbered  among  the  things  of 
the  past,  but  it  will  be  a  subject  of  comment  and  laudation  for  ages 
yet  to  come.  During  its  continuance,  London  was  a  miniature 
world,  so  far  as  the  varieties  of  the  human  race  are  concerned; 
and  its  increase  of  population  drawn  from  every  part  of  the 
habitable  globe  was  beyond  positive  estimate.  Hyde  Park 
was  the  grand  centre  where  foreigners  then  met,  and  representa- 
tives from  almost  every  land  were  to  be  seen  there  on  certain 
occasions.  Such  a  variety  of  the  human  family  as  was  then 
assembled  in  the  British  metropolis  was  probably  never  before 
convened  in  the  world's  history,  and  it  was  a  proud  thing  for 
Englishmen  to  reflect  that  the  gathering  of  the  delegates  of  earth's  • 
nations  in  their  capital  was  for  purposes  of  peace,  and  the  advance- 
ment of  science  and  useful  manufactures.  The  assembling  of  the 
tribes  of  men  on  such  an  occasion  was  a  grand  event,  and 
its  peaceful  tendencies  will  be  felt  in  all  climes  in  coming  ages. 
It  afforded  opportunity  for  interchange  of  civilities,  on  the  part  of 
the  individual  members  of  remote  nations,  far  different  from  the 
cold,  formal  commingling  of  diplomatists  and  official  representa- 
tives, such  as  take  place  between  peoples  through  their  rulers  and 
servants.  It  was,  in  truth,  a  congress  of  the  great  family  of  man, 
where  the  swarthy  Numidian  and  fair  Caucasian;  subtle  Chinese 
and  austere  Spaniard;  scholastic  German  and  mercurial  Frank; 
keen  Scot  and  irascible  Hibernian;  embrowned  Hindoo  and  serf- 
born  Kussian;  emancipated  Egyptian  and  thoughtful  Turk;  Pa- 
cific Islander  and  wily  Savage ;  wealth-loving  Englishman  and 
dauntless,  inventive  American,  met  as  equals,  to  exhibit  the  pro- 
ducts of  their  genius,  their  labor,  and  their  climes;  and  learn  to 
know  each  other,  so  that  the  ties  which  bind  our  common  race 
together  might  be  drawn  more  tightly  by  the  silver  chains  of 
peace. 

I  was  in  London  a  considerable  time  before  I  determined  upon 
a  visit  to  the  then  great  centre  of  attraction,  the  Crystal  Palace. 
Vague  "and    undefined    idesifs    of  its    internal    grandeur  were 
10 


110  THE  FOOTPATH' AND  HIGHWAY; 

created  and  destroyed  in  my  mind ;  but  of  all  the  conceptions 
I  formed  none  equalled  the  reality.  The  fairy  structure  was  the 
greatest  curiosity  connected  with  the  display.  It  was  sublime  in 
every  feature,  and  gorgeous  in  its  grandeur.  Harmony  was 
blended  in  its  proportions,  and  beauty  and  symmetry  in  its  lines 
and  airy  form.  It  possessed  magnitude  without  the  power  to 
weary;  and  magnificence  with  simplicity.  The  lofty  and  imposing 
transept  was  a  noble  feature  of  the  structure,  and  the  lengthened 
naves  died  away  in  perspective  like  sweet  music  softly  floating 
into  distance. 

It  would  be  vain  to  attempt  a  detailed  description  of  the  great 
attractions  of  the  display.  The  vast  edifice  was  converted  into  a 
receptacle  of  the  products  of  man's  ingenuity  and  skill;  and  there 
was  scarcely  an  article  of  elegance  and  invention  known,  but  was 
irepresentcd  there.  India  and  China  contributed  specimens  of  the 
gorgeous  fabrics  of  the  eastern  loom ;  and  the  far  islands  of  the 
sea  sent  their  manufactures.  Egypt,  Syria,  Persia,  Arabia,  and 
the  once  Holy  Land,  but  now  the  Moslem's  home,  exhibited  the 
skill  of  their  respective  peoples  in  arts  and  works  of  beauty. 
Austria  showered  exquisite  gems  in  profusion  before  the  eye  of 
the  beholder;  and  tasteful  France  spread  out  lavishly  the 
splendid  products  of  her  looms,  her  genius,  and  her  cunning  hand. 
Every  country  in  the  civilized  or  half  civilized  world  displayed  its 
manufactures;  and  the  combined  collection  constituted,  in  itself,  a 
tangible  history  of  the  industry,  ingenuity,  and  productive  skill 
of  man  for  ages. 

From  the  hour  of  admission  in  the  morning  until  the  heavy 
bell  proclaimed  the  time  for  closing  the  aisles,  the  galleries  and 
the  halls  of  the  spacious  edifice  were  thronged  with  human  beings, 
intent  upon  the  glories  of  the  place,  and  absorbed  in  the  splendors 
of  the  display.  Seventy,  eighty,  yes  !  even  one  hundred  thousand 
beings  were  assembled  there  on  one  day ;  and  the  noise  of  their 
voices  and  movements  went  up  like  theg'oar  of  the  sounding  sea. 
Order  reigned  supreme ;  all  was  peace,  all  cheerfulness  and  en- 
tranced attention.  The  sunlight  streamed  in  subdued  rays  througli 
the  crystal  vault,  and  fell  sweetly  on  fabrics  rich  as  gold  or  of 
Tyrian  purple  dye.     The  products  of  the  chisel  adorned  the  aisles 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  Ill 

and  naves ;  and  fountains  sent  up  tides  of  gushing  waters.  The 
richest  works  of  man  were  arranged  in  profusion,  and  the  im- 
mense palace  had  the  appearance  of  a  creation  not  of  earth. 

A  view  of  surpassing  grandeur  was  spread  before  him  who 
gazed  down  from  the  transept  galleries  on  the  moving  mass 
below.  The  great  arch  sprang  like  a  silver  bow  aloft,  while  the 
symmetrical  naves  swept  softly  away  into  dim  distance.  Along  the 
sides  of  the  galleries,  like  the  gay  banners  of  a  countless  host, 
hung  the  most  gorgeous  and  costly  products  of  the  loom,  and  the 
eye  feasted  on  their  glorious  hues,  and  took  in  their  beauties; 
and  glanced  over  the  busy  mass  below,  mingling  and  commingling 
in  apparent  confusion,  yet  moving  and  changing  without  discord, 
or  tumultuous  sound.  Colossal  figures  in  bronze,  splendid  groups 
in  marble,  exquisite  fountains  and  classic  temples  encountered 
the  sight  in  its  range,  and  carried  the  mind  captive  with  the 
magnitude  and  sublimity  of  the  display.  Viewed  from  such  a 
point,  the  crystal  palace  exhibited  a  scene  of  unparalleled  gran- 
deur, and  exceeding  splendor,  and  left  its  impress  indelibly  upon 
the  soul.  Its  very  magnificence  awed  the  mind,  and  defied  the 
power  that  would  attempt  its  representation  by  words ;  the  paint- 
er's art  quailed  before  it,  and  when  the  imitation  came  from 
his  hands,  it  was  but  the  dead,  cold  shadow  of  the  once  triumph- 
ant and  gorgeous  reality. 

Such  an  exhibition  of  the  skill  of  man  was  never  witnessed  be- 
fore, and  many  cycles  must  roll  on  ere  another  can  be  accomplish- 
ed. The  English  people  are  content  with  the  one,  and  take  the 
glory  of  its  conception  and  successful  termination  to  themselves, 
fully  satisfied  with  the  result,  and  with  the  honors  it  yielded. 

My  visits  to  it  were  frequent,  and  always  rewarded  with 
pleasure.  The  last  time  I  was  there,  I  lingered  until  the  close 
of  the  day,  and  felt  reluctant  to  bid  farewell.  The  great  organ 
in  the  eastern  nave  was  filling  the  magnificent  pile  with  tides  of 
melodious  sound,  and  nearly  seventy  thousand  souls  listened  to  its 
tones.  After  performing  a  number  of  sacred  compositions,  the 
organist  drew  from  the  tubes  of  his  powerful  instrument  the 
thrilling  notes  of  England's  national  anthem,  "  God  save  the 
Queen;"  and  as  the  sounds  quivered  in  the  air,  and  began  to  roll 


112  THE  FOOTrATH  AND  HTGnWAY ; 

in  waves  through  the  aisles  of  the  vast  edifice,  the  voices  of 
seventy  thousand  human  beings  were  blended  with  them,  and  rang 
like  a  wild  hallelujah  of  praise  to  heaven.  Each  individual  sang 
as  if  his  soul  were  in  the  strain,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
throng  heightened  the  grandeur  of  the  incident,  and  sublimity  of 
the  hymn.  The  chorus  ceased  with  the  words,  but  the  sounds 
still  waved  and  rolled  through  the  nave  and  transept,  until,  like 
softly  beating  surges  of  a  subsiding  sea  on  the  sandy  shore,  they 
died  in  gentle  murmurs  in  the  far  distance ;  and  then,  as  the  assem- 
blage departed,  darkness  and  silence  resumed  their  reign. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

RAMBLES  AND  REFLECTIONS  IN  LONDON. 

There  are  innumerable  places  in  the  great  city  made  cele- 
brated for  having  been  the  residences  of  renowned  men,  and  the 
stranger,  curious  about  such  things,  can  frequently  employ  his  time 
advantageously  by  looking  them  out.  Who  that  is  acquainted  with 
English  literature  would  not  like  to  see  the  spot  whereon  Will's 
Coffee-House  stood,  or  the  walls  which  sheltered  Goldy  and  the 
other  members  of  the  Club  ?  Some  of  the  old  houses  have  been 
removed  long  since,  but  their  localities  are  distinctly  marked 
to  this  day,  and  there  is  pleasure  in  knowing  that  you  have 
been  at  the  precise  spot.  Button's,  and  Will's,  and  Tom's, 
were  all  near  each  other,  on  Kussell  Street,  Co  vent  Garden, 
and  I  took  the  trouble  to  indulge  my  prying  propensities,  and 
seek  out  their  celebrated  localities.  Will's  is  now  a  gin-palace, 
and  not  remarkable  either  for  good  liquor  or  genteel  company. 
It  is  at,  or  near  the  corner  of  Bow  Street  and  Kussell  Street; 
but  the  people  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  know  nothing 
of  its  former  celebrity,  nor  is  the  landlord  awnre  that  it  was 
in  time  past  the  most  popular  resort  of  great  men  in  London. 
Tom's   is   the  house  on  the  north  side  of  the  street,  No.  17. 


113' 

At  present  it  is  occupied  by  a  provision-dealer,  and  he  appears  to 
know  nothing  of  its  history.  There  are  two  pedestals  over  the  shop 
front,  on  one  of  which  is  a  bust  of  one  of  the  Roman  Emperors 
— the  other  being  vacant.  Reference  is  frequently  made  to  this 
house  in  the  writings  of  distinguished  men  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Anne,  and  it  was  in  it  that  Pope's  "  Essay  on  Criticism' '  was  first 
published.  On  the  other  side  of  the  street,  almost  facing  the 
house  just  named,  is  the  site  of  Button's  Coffee-House,  once  the 
resort  of  Pope,  Addison,  Colley  Gibber,  Ambrose  Phillips,  and 
others  equally  distinguished.  The  house  took  its  name  from  one 
Button,  who  had  been  a  servant  in  the  family  of  the  Countess  of 
Warwick,  and  continued  to  be  a  resort  of  the  wits  of  the  day 
until  Addison's  death.  It  is  now  scarcely  ever  looked  for,  and 
the  pork  butcher  who  occupies  it  cares  nothing  about  its  former 
celebrity.  Will's,  however,  was  the  most  famous  place  of  its 
day,  and  I  felt  angry  to  see  it  converted  into  a  shop  for  the  sale 
of  gin  and  ale  by  the  pennyworth.  Great  Dryden  was  wont  to 
resort  there,  and  all  the  bright  intellectual  stars  of  his  time  shone 
brilliantly  within  those  walls ;  but  now  things  are  changed,  and 
low  women,  grimy  sweeps,  and  coal-dealers  drink  their  "  half-and- 
half  in  the  desecrated  hall  of  Will's  Coffee-House.  The  neigh- 
borhood is  no  longer  fashionable  as  a  residence,  nor  does  the 
world-renowned  Covent  Garden  Theatre  attract  large  audiences 
at  this  time.  It  is  called  the  Italian  Opera,  and  no  longer  echoes 
to  the  plays  of  Shakspeare  or  his  celebrated  followers. 

New  Bond  Street  was  once  the  great  fashionable  residence,  and 
it  was  at  Long's  Hotel,  in  that  street,  that  Byron  and  Scott  met 
for  the  last  time.  Moore  and  his  friend,  the  author  of  ^^  Childe 
Harold,"  used  to  dine  frequently  at  Stevens's  Hotel,  in  the  same 
thoroughfare,  and  as  both  houses  are  still  standing  I  had  the  cu- 
riosity to  look  them  out.  Old  Bond  Street  is  still  more  celebrat- 
ed than  its  modern  namesake,  it  having  been  the  place  in  which 
many  of  the  distinguished  of  former  days  resided. 

Sterne,  the  author  of  "  Tristram  Shandy,"  lived  and  died  in  that 
street,  at  what  was  called  in  his  day  "  The  Silk-Bag  Shop."  The 
house  is  now  in  the  occupancy  of  a  cheesemonger,  who  spurns  a 
knowledge  either  of  the  immoral  parson  or  his  works.  If  my  memory 

JO* 


114  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

serves  me  correctly,  it  was  in  Old  Bond  Street  that  Boswell  lived 
when  he  gave  a  supper  to  Johnson  and  others  of  the  Club,  at 
which  Goldsmith  made  his  appearance  in  the  famous  blossom- 
colored  coat  his  biographers  tell  us  about.  The  house  is  not 
known,  and  I  found  it  useless  to  hunt  the  locality.  These  re- 
marks call  to  mind  a  visit  I  made  to  the  graveyard  of  Temple 
Church,  off  Fleet  Street,  near  Temple  Bar.  Goldsmith  was  buried 
there  in  a  common  grave ;  but,  as  there  was  no  stone  raised  upon 
the  spot,  his  last  resting-place  is  unknown.  Others,  total  strangers 
to  fame,  lie  around,  and  lengthy  inscriptions  on  the  slabs  which 
cover  their  tombs  record  who  rest  below ;  but  the  man,  who  was 
really  great  and  good,  sleeps  the  endless  sleep  in  the  heart  of 
a  great  city,  and  not  one  can  point  out  the  place  of  his  grave. 
Many  seek  it,  but  none  find !  The  honorary  tomb  in  West- 
minster Abbey  is  a  mockery,  when  one  is  made  acquainted  with 
these  facts.  Some  admirers  of  the  bard  have  placed  a  beautiful 
marble  tribute  to  his  memory,  in  the  vestry  of  Temple  Church, 
on  which  is  engraved  the  following  : — 

This  Tablet, 

recording  that 

Oliver  Goldsmith 

Died  in  the  Temple  on  the  4th  of  April,  1774, 

and  was  buried  in  the  adjoining 

churchyard, 

was  erected  by  the  Benchers 

of  the 

Hon.  Society  of  the  Inner  Temple, 

A.  D.  1837. 

This  is  something  for  poor  Goldy,  and  although  none  can  tell 
his  last  resting-place,  the  pilgrim  from  distant  lands  can  see 
that  his  memory  is  cherished  by  those  who  dwell  near  his  for- 
gotten grave !  The  poet  lived  and  died  in  the  building  No.  2, 
Brick  Court,  Middle  Temple,  near  by  his  last  resting-place ;  and 
immediately  under  the  rooms  he  occupied,  lived  Sir  Wm.  Black- 
stone,  the  great  lawyer.  I  went  into  the  house  and  looked 
ajround,  but  saw  nothing  worthy  of  remark.      It   is  secluded 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  115 

and  quietj  all  things  considered,  but  not  mucli  can  be  said 
in  favor  of  its  inhabitants,  as  they  are  principally  undistinguished 
lawyers  of  the  London  Bar. 

When  I  jSrst  visited  the  metropolis,  I  hunted  out  the  habita- 
tion in  which  poor  Chatterton  committed  suicide.  It  is  No.  4, 
Brook  Street,  and  at  present  occupied  as  a  furniture  warehouse. 

The  house  is  old  and  much  decayed,  and  is  to  be  torn  down 
soon,  and  then  the  last  visible  thing  connected  with  the  brief 
London  residence  of  the  proud  boy  bard  will  be  swept  away  for- 
ever. He  was  buried  in  a  shell  in  Shoe  Lane  workhouse  yard; 
but,  as  no  one  had  any  sympathy  for  him  at  the  time  of  his 
death,  his  grave  was  unmarked.  From  what  I  can  learn,  the 
Farringdon  Market  now  occupies  the  former  site  of  the  pauper 
burial-ground,  and  the  ashes  of  the  greatest  genius  that  England 
ever  gave  birth  to  mingle  with  their  mother  earth  in  a  market- 
place. That  literary  knave  and  charlatan,  Horace  Walpole,  is 
not  unjustly  charged  with  Chatterton's  untimely  and  horrible 
end.  If  he  had  acted  the  part  of  a  mauj  the  world  would  never 
have  had  to  mourn  the  sad  fate  of  the  Bristol  boy.  Shoe  Lane 
is  a  filthy  place,  and  famous  for  its  connection  with  genius. 
Savage,  the  poet,  was  born  in  it ;  Lovelace  died  there  in  miserable 
lodgings,  in  a  court,  still  in  existence,  called  Gunpowder  Alley ; 
and  there  Chatterton  was  crammed  into  a  pauper's  grave,  without 
the  rites  of  Christian  burial.  The  vicinity  is  not  less  famous, 
but  I  am  happy  to  say  less  filthy.  St.  Bride's  Church  is  close  at 
hand,  and  by  paying  a  small  fee  I  was  enabled  to  visit  it.  The 
sexton  pointed  out  the  tomb  of  Richardson  the  printer,  the 
author  of  "  Clarissa  Harlowe."  I  was  glad  to  meet  with  a  man  of 
some  intelligence,  and  more  pleased  to  find  Bichardson's  resting- 
place.  The  slab  covering  the  tomb  is  half  hidden  by  a  pew,  but 
still  it  can  be  seen.  ^'  Clarissa"  was  the  first  novel  worthy  of  the 
name  I  ever  read,  and  I  distinctly  recollect  stealing  out  of  a  clear 
bright  moonlight  night,  and  perusing  it  by  the  light  of  Cynthia's 
beams,  after  having  been  threatened  with  a  flogging  if  I  did  not 
lay  it  aside.  The  large  type  in  which  it  was  printed  was  easily 
traced  by  my  young  eyes,  although  the  moon  was  all  the  light  I  had. 
I  read  eagerly;  no  one  ever  took  more  interest  in  the  fate  of  an 
imaginary  heroine  than  I  did  at  that  time  in  the  fortunes  of  vir- 


116  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  ma H way; 

tuous  Clarissa  Harlowc.  She  was  my  beau  ideal  of  a  woman, 
and  though  years  have  passed  since  then,  my  mind  will  never 
lose  the  image  of  the  fair  young  girl.  I  thought  she  was  at  my 
side,  as  I  stood  in  the  sacred  place,  looking  mournfully  upon  the 
grave  of  him  from  whose  brain  she  sprung. 

A  short  distance  further  down  Fleet  Street,  towards  the 
Strand,  is  the  famous  Mitre  Tavern,  once  the  resort  of  Dr.  John- 
son and  Goldsmith.  It  is  in  a  court  of  the  same  name ;  and 
the  present  landlord  is  well  acquainted  with  the  history  of  his 
domicile.  I  sauntered  in  there  at  a  rather  late  hour  one  even- 
ing, and  ordered  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll.  The  waiter  looked 
at  me  scrutinizingly,  and  told  me  that  it  would  be  eighteen  pence. 
^'  Only  eighteen  pence  ?  I  thought  it  was  three  shillings,"  said 
I.  The  fellow  looked  abashed,  and  stammered  out  an  apology, 
and  finished  by  asking  my  pardon.  *' For,"  said  he,  ''many 
persons  come  in  here,  and  not  being  acquainted  with  our  prices, 
consider  themselves  imposed  on  when  called  upon  to  settle."  I 
remained  for  some  time,  and  was  shown  the  warm  corner,  once 
the  favorite  resting-place  of  the  great  moralist.  It  is  in  the  coffee- 
room,  and  a  fine  copy  of  Nollekin's  bust  of  the  essayist  is  imme- 
diately over  the  spot.  I  felt  perfectly  at  ease  in  the  presence  of 
the  Doctor's  sculptured  representative,  and  almost  suspected  that 
his  spirit  haunted  the  old  inn,  everything  looked  so  cosy  and 
comfortable.  One  of  the  oldest  literary  clubs  of  London  formerly 
dined  at  the  Mitre,  but  they  discontinued  resorting  to  it  in  1847, 
and  now  assemble  at  the  Free  Mason's  Tavern  in  Great  Queen 
Street. 

Still  further  down,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  is  Bolt 
Court,  the  last  residence  of  Johnson,  and  the  place  where  ho 
died.  I  believe  the  house  in  which  ho  dwelt  was  destroyed  by  fire 
some  years  ago;  but  be  that  as  it  may,  there  is  a  tavern  in  the  alley 
at  present  called  after  the  lexicographer,  and  every  night  sees  it 
thronged  with  visitors,  who  go  there  to  hear  songs  and  recitations. 
The  passage  is  rather  narrow,  and  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
wide  enough  to  have  allowed  a  man  so  bulky  as  Johnson  ingress 
or  egress  without  a  gentle  squeeze.  The  place  is  classic,  and 
worth  a  visit,  for  it  was  in  that  court  that  Goldsmith,  Uurke,  and 
Reynolds  frequently  assembled  and  enjoyed  their  mental  feasts. 


117 

In  going  up  it  at  night,  one  hurries  through,  fearful  lest  he  should 
encounter  the  Doctor  in  the  act  of  bowing  his  distinguished  com- 
panions to  the  street,  and  be  wedged  in  between  the  walls  and 
his  great  body. 

The  site  of  the  world-renowned  Fleet  prison  is  on  Farringdon 
Street,  but  not  a  vestige  of  the  once  living  tomb  remains.  Like 
those  it  held  captive,  it  has  passed  away,  and  the  stranger 
looks  in  vain  for  a  single  relic  of  a  building  within  whose  walls 
men  of  genius  found  a  temporary  retreat  from  the  clamors  of 
persevering  creditors.  What  a  long  catalogue  of  great  names  the 
bare  mention  of  that  place  calls  to  mind !  There  Dr.  Donne  was 
imprisoned ;  and  Wycherley,  the  poet,  was  incarcerated  in  the 
Fleet  for  seven  years;,  and  Lloyd,  the  friend  of  Churchill;  and 
Mrs.  Thomas  (Curll's  "  Corinna'^)  died  there,  as  well  as  a  host  of 
others  equally  celebrated.  Even  William  Penn  was  once  a  pri- 
soner in  the  famous  place,  and  that  for  being  guilty  of  owing  a 
few  pounds.     Poverty  is  a  crime  even  at  this  day ! 

Lord  George  Gordon's  riots  caused  a  deal  of  harm  in  London 
at  the  time  of  their  occurrence ;  but  now  no  one  thinks  of  them. 
The  Fleet  was  burned  then,  if  I  recollect  rightly,  and  Newgate 
with  it.  The  mob  tore  down  the  house  of  the  great  Lord  Mans- 
field,- in  Bloomsbury  Square,  and  burnt  his  library,  or  as  much  of 
it  as  was  not  accidentally  saved  from  the  flames.  I  visited  the 
spot  frequently ;  but  there  are  no  evidences  there  at  this  time  of 
arson  and  pillage.  The  house  is  at  the  northeast  end  of  the 
square,  and  in  a  pleasant  section  of  the  west  end  of  the  town. 
D'Israeli  lived  in  the  same  street,  and  the  house  in  which  he  com- 
piled his  "  Curiosities  of  Literature"  is  standing  to  this  day.  Other 
disturbances  of  a  less  serious  character  than  the  Gordon  out- 
break, however,  took  place  in  the  same  vicinity  in  after  years, 
and  not  the  least  remarkable  was  the  visit  of  the  0.  P.  rioters  to 
the  house  of  John  Philip  Kemble,  in  Great  Russel  Street, 
Bloomsbury  Square,  before  which  they  sang  the  popular  song  of 
'^  Heigh-ho,^'  written  by  Horace  Smith,  of  Rejected  Addresses 
celebrity.  The  dwelling  was  torn  down  a  few  years  since,  to  make 
room  for  the  additions  to  the  British  Museum ;  but  the  spot  is 
pointed  out  to  the  curious  yet. 


118  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

While  on  the  subject  of  riots,  I  may  as  well  mention  Apsley 
House,  the  town  residence  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  as  it  still 
bears  some  marks  of  the  effects  of  the  great  Reform  disturbances. 
The  hero  had  the  lower  windows  closed  up  with  iron  blinds  since 
that  time,  to  prevent  a  recurrence  of  the  outrages  committed  then 
by  a  London  mob,  and  the  house  looks  at  those  points  like  a  prison. 
Many  persons  wonder  what  is  meant  by  the  iron  screens,  and  can- 
not imagine  why  they  &re  in  their  present  position ;  while  others, 
who  are  acquainted  with  the  causes  which  placed  them  there,  say 
nothing,  but  feel  keenly  the  silent  rebuke — for  they  were  evidently 
put  there  by  the  Duke  to  commemorate  the  visit  of  gratitude  paid 
him  by  his  countrymen. 

On  the  Southwark  side  of  the  river  are  several  places  of  note, 
not  the  least  remarkable  of  which  is  the  Tabard  Inn,  famous  for 
being  the  place  in  which  Chaucer  assembled  his  Canterbury  pil- 
grims. The  house  is  still  in  existence  as  an  inn,  and  the  stranger 
can  enjoy  a  glass  of  ale  there  as  well  as  at  any  other  old  place  in 
London.  The  entrance  is  through  an  arch,  which  leads  into  a 
court-yard,  once  gay  with  travellers  and  visitors  to  the  now  com- 
paratively deserted  hostelrie.  I  have  a  j^cuchant  for  hunting  out 
these  embalmed  places  (for  such  they  are),  and  take  pleasure  in 
passing  a  short  time  within  their  sacred  precincts.  I  feel  as  if  trans- 
ported back  to  a  bygone  age,  and  imagine  around  me  the  bearded 
men  of  earlier  times,  as  I  sit  quietly  gazing  around  upon  the 
famous  walls. 

Dut  a  short  distance  from  the  inn  noticed  above,  is  St.  Saviour's 
Church,  Southwark,  one  of  the  oldest  ecclesiastical  edifices  in  the 
metropolis.  It  is  irregularly  built,  and  a  new  wing  docs  not  add 
cither  to  the  beauty  or  architectural  proportions  of  the  structure. 
The  older  parts  arc  in  the  early  English  style,  and,  next  to  West- 
minster Abbey,  are  considered  the  best  specimens  of  that  order 
in  London.  The  monuments  in  the  Lady  chapel  ore  numerous, 
and  some  of  them  curiosities.  Probably  the  most  interesting 
fact  connected  with  the  place  is  that  it  contains  the  tomb  of  Edmund 
Shakspcarc,  player,  brother  of  the  great  bard  of  Avon.  The  spot 
pointed  out  is  not  clearly  identified,  but  sufficient  is  known  to 
warrant  the  assertion  that  such  a  person  lies  buried  in  the  church. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  119 

He  was  the  poet's  youngest  brother,  and  according  to  the  parish 
register  was  interred  December  31,  1G07.  Who  ever  thought 
Shalvspeare  had  a  brother?  Surely,  not  one  in  a  hundred  thousand 
of  his  readers.  But  he  had,  and  his  remains  turned  to  dust  years 
ago  under  the  paved  floor  of  St.  Saviour's,  Southwark.  Philip 
Massinger,  the  fine  dramatist,  and  forerunner  of  Soulful  Will, 
is  buried  in  the  churchyard ;  but  there  is  no  stone  to  mark  the 
place,  nor  is  it  an  easy  matter  to  learn  the  whereabout  of  the 
grave.  John  Fletcher  (of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher)  is  interred  in 
the  chancel,  and  old  Grower,  the  poet,  has  both  a  monument  and 
a  grave  in  the  same  building.  He  was  of  what  is  called  a  noble 
family,  and  consequently  his  tomb  is  kept  in  repair. 

Doctors  Commons,  where  all  wills  made  in  the  District  of  Can- 
terbury are  recorded,  is  located  to  the  south  of  Saint  Paul's,  in  a 
narrow  street  near  the  Thames.  This  celebrated  legal  quarter  is 
much  resorted  to  by  anxious  heirs  and  those  who  are  curious  as  to 
the  legacies  of  deceased  persons.  The  last  testaments  of  some  of 
England's  greatest  men  are  there  in  their  original  forms,  among 
which  may  be  named  those  of  Shakspeare,  Cromwell,  and  Dr. 
Johnson.  The  will  of  Napoleon  also  adorns  the  place,  and  it  is 
said  to  contain  a  clause  bequeathing  10,000  francs  to  the  man 
who  attempted  the  assassination  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  in 
Paris.  Persons  desirous  to  learn  any  particulars  respecting  the 
will  of  a  deceased  individual  have  every  facility  afforded  them  in 
the  search  by  paying  a  shilling  to  the  officer  in  attendance,  who 
gives  the  applicant  a  slip  of  paper  which,  by  being  handed  to 
another  official,  secures  to  the  searcher  the  privilege  of  examining 
the  records,  but  no  one  is  allowed  to  make  a  memorandum  without 
additional  pay.  The  names  of  the  persons  who  have  died  in  the 
district,  and  left  property  by  testament,  are  enrolled  in  parchment 
books,  with  the  day  and  year  of  decease,  as  is  customary  in  such 
places.  Copies  of  the  wills,  written  in  Old  English,  are  kept  for 
examination,  and  arranged  with  great  precision.  If  a  person 
desires  to  see  the  originals,  he  can  do  so  by  paying  an  additional 
shilling.  I  went  with  a  friend  to  search  for  a  will,  and  after  a 
laborious  hunt  found  what  we  sought.  The  clerk  recognized  me 
as  an  American,  and  endeavored  to  enter  into  a  conversation  with 


120  THE  FOOTrATII  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

me  respecting  my  countrymen,  and  what  he  was  pleased  to  call 
their  uncharitable  prejudice  against  England.  I  evaded  his  ques- 
tion, and  excused  myself  to  attend  to  the  business  on  which  we 
came. 

Newgate  Prison,  on  the  old  Bailey,  is  a  sombre,  repulsive  struc- 
ture, by  no  means  calculated  to  win  one's  admiration;  and  would, 
aside  from  the  suffering,  wretchedness,  and  crime  connected 
with  it,  claim  the  stranger's  attention;  but,  when  viewed  as 
the  great  criminal  prison  of  London,  it  calls  to  mind  the  whole 
catalogue  of  celebrated  felons  who  have,  at  various  times,  suf- 
fered the  penalty  of  violated  law  there.  Immediately  in  front 
of  the  main  door,  in  the  curbstone,  are  two  sockets,  into  which 
are  inserted  iron  uprights  for  the  support  of  the  scaffolds  used  at 
executions ;  and  around,  for  a  considerable  space,  is  the  ground 
occupied,  at  times  of  strangling,  by  the  humane  who  love  to  see 
their  fellows  die  like  dogs.  It  was  there  that  Fauntleroy  was 
hung,  and  there  public  executions  take  place  at  this  day. 

On  the  corner,  diagonally  opposite,  stands  St.  Sepulchre's 
Church,  a  fine  old  Gothic  edifice,  remarkable  for  being  the  place 
in  which  prayers  are  offered  up  for  criminals  about  to  suffer  death 
at  the  jail.  The  bells  are  tolled  when  an  execution  takes  place, 
in  conformity  to  the  will  of  a  parishioner,  who  died  in  1G05,  and 
bequeathed  the  sum  of  £1  Gs.  8d.  to  the  clerk  for  such  service  on 
such  an  occasion  forever.  The  interior  is  quite  imposing,  and,  as 
the  principal  entrance  is  through  an  arched  way  under  the  tower, 
the  visitor  is  impressed  with  the  sanctity  of  the  fane  immediately 
on  going  within.  Probably  the  objects  of  greatest  interest  to  the 
American  in  the  shrino  arc  the  grave  and  tombstone  of  Captain 
John  Smith,  whose  adventures  and  sufferings  are  so  intimately 
connected  with  the  early  history  of  eastern  Virginia.  The  slab 
is  pointed  out,  but  the  inscription  is  obliterated,  and  the  only 
portion  of  the  sculpture  visible  is  the  representation  of  three 
Turks'  heads.  The  record  was  in  verse,  and  some  copies  of  it 
are  in  existence,  but  I  was  unable  to  procure  one.  The  recipient 
of  the  intervention  of  Pocahontas  is  seldom  thought  of  now;  and 
I  was  told  by  the  sexton,  who  had  been  in  the  place  a  considerable 
time,  that  but  a  single  Virginian,  to  his  knowledge,  had  visited 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  121 

the  tomb  of  the  romantic  adventurer,  in  St.  Sepulchre's,  in  thirty 
years. 

Fault-finding  is  a  favorite  pastime  of  travellers ;  and  it  rarely 
occurs  that  we  find  one  who  does  not  quarrel  with  almost 
everything  he  sees  in  a  foreign  land.  Scarcely  any  object 
is  worth  his  praise,  and  nothing  escapes  his  censure.  Men  who 
go  abroad  generally  view  the  countries  through  which  they  pass 
through  the  lenses  with  which  they  have  been  taught  to  survey 
their  native  lands,  and  seldom  reflect  that  the  persons  with  whom 
they  are  sojourning  are  educated,  and  live  under  governments 
essentially  different  from  those  under  which  they  have  been  reared 
and  instructed.  The  Englishman  in  the  United  States  discovers 
nothing  but  insolence  and  vulgarity  among  the  inhabitants,  and 
never  reflects  that  the  faults  he  notices  exist  more  in  his  own 
imagination  than  in  reality;  while  the  American,  who  goes  to 
England,  usually  measures  everything  in  climate  and  manners 
by  his  own  standard,  and  concludes  that  the  islanders  are  arro- 
gant, pompous,  and  vainglorious,  or  so  brutally  illiterate  and  igno- 
rant as  to  be  unfit  to  associate  with  intelligent  men.  Both  are 
wrong,  and  both  should  reflect  more,  and  not  come  to  rash  or 
unjust  conclusions.  We  should  always  make  allowance  for  the 
effects  of  early  education  and  the  institutions  under  which  people 
are  born  and  live;  and  not  condemn  and  denounce,  because,  for- 
sooth, things  do  not  suit  our  peculiar  notions  of  propriety  or  right. 

The  first  few  weeks  an  American  spends  in  London  are  not 
agreeable.  He  complains  of  the  atmosphere — ridicules  the  stiff- 
ness of  the  people's  manners — finds  fault  with  the  apparent  checks 
to  personal  independence,  and  entertains  a  dislike  for  almost  every- 
thing. A  month  or  two  makes  a  change  in  his  views  and  wajs 
of  thinking.  By  that  time  he  is  reconciled  to  some  extent,  and 
sees  beauties  where  before  he  observed  defects,  and  sociability 
where  he  thought  there  was  nothing  but  selfishness  and  cold  in- 
difference to  strangers.  John  Bull  has  become  a  respectable  old 
fellow  in  Jonathan's  estimation,  then,  and  as  the  two  open  their 
minds  to  each  other,  they  agree,  after  comparing  notes,  that  Eng- 
land and  America  are  the  only  great  nations  on  earth. 

The  change  in  the  policy  of  the  government  since  the  days  of 
11 


122  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

George  the  Third,  respecting  the  expression  of  opinion,  is  re- 
markable; and  I  was  ou  one  particular  occasion  greatly  astonished 
to  hear  a  public  lecturer  condemning,  in  language  far  from  choice, 
the  entire  S3'stem  under  which  he  lives.  Uis  remarks  were  prin- 
cipally directed  against  the  abuses  of  the  Established  Church,  and 
the  rapacity  of  the  bishops,  as  then  just  revealed  by  a  committee 
of  examination  appointed  by  the  House  of  Commons  to  report 
upon  certain  alleged  misdoings  of  the  Fathers.  His  audience  was 
composed  principally  of  workingmen,  and  he  gave  them  a  portion 
of  the  real  history  of  England,  and  mentioned  some  startling  facts 
connected  with  the  establishment  of  the  State  Church.  He  was 
particularly  severe  on  the  bishops,  and  said  that  "seventy  thousand 
persons  suiFered  by  fagot  and  flame  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the 
Eighth,  because  they  dared  differ  with  them ;  and  in  Elizabeth's 
reign  things  were  equally  bad.  Bishops  at  this  day  are  no  better 
than  they  were  then,  and  they  would  commit  the  same  atrocities 
now  that  they  did  in  those  ages,  if  they  only  dared."  As  an 
evidence  of  their  avariciousness  and  falsehood,  he  mentioned  the 
extortions  they  were  guilty  of  in  the  last  seven  years,  and  the 
enormous  salaries  they  are  entitled  to.  In  1837,  the  bishops  had 
their  salaries  fixed  by  law,  according  to  the  see,  varying  from  £4000 
to  £15,000  per  annum.  These  were  the  sums  they  declared  on 
oath  would  be  suflicient  for  their  support,  and  now  it  was  shown 
that  in  seven  years  they  had  received,  over  and  above  these 
amounts,  the  enormous  total  of  £80,000,  or  about  400,000  dol- 
lars, and  not  one  farthing  of  it  would  they  return.  The  lecturer 
asked  whether,  if  any  of  those  present  had  robbed  so  largely, 
they  would  be  permitted  to  go  at  liberty?  "No!"  said  he ;  "but 
you  or  I,  had  we  done  so,  would  have  been  in  the  Old  Bailey  long 
ere  this,  and  by  this  time  would  be  crossing  the  wild  waters  in 
chains  to  a  penal  colony,  as  felons." 

He  spoke  of  some  of  the  early  English  monarchs  as  they  de- 
serve. The  lives  of  Charles  the  First  and  James  the  Second  were 
hastily  but  properly  reviewed,  and  the  conduct  of  the  English 
bishops  in  the  reign  of  the  last-named  sovereign  carefully  ana- 
lyzed. The  doctrines  of  non-resistance,  and  the  sacreduess  of  hia 
majesty's  person,  as  taught  by  them  80  long  as  it  suited  their 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  123 

purposes  to  give  adherence  to  such  points  of  policy,  were  exposed 
in  masterly  style;  "and/'  said  he,  'Hhe  seven  bishops  are  called 
by  historians  the  preservers  of  English  liberty  on  account  of 
their  conduct  at  the  abdication  of  James  the  Second,  and  why? 
Because  they  crushed  the  democracy,  by  usurping  to  themselves 
the  kingly  power.  It  would  have  been  better  for  England  had 
James  been  allowed  to  continue  his  violations  of  law  longer,  for 
then  the  people  would  have  arisen  and  swept  away  kings  and 
royalty  forever!"  Cheers  greeted  him  on  this  declaration, 
although  it  was  Sunday  evening,  and  I  began  to  think  I  was  in 
bad  company,  and  would  soon  be  under  the  care  of  her  Majesty's 
guardians  of  the  peace  for  being  in  a  congregation  of  Sabbath- 
breakers.  I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  door  in  anticipation  of  seeing 
a  posse  of  police  officers  entering,  but  none  made  their  appear- 
ance. "Well,"  thought  I,  "there's  more  freedom  of  speech  here 
than  was  allowed  twenty  years  ago,  or  history  greatly  belies  even 
William  the  Fourth." 

The  lecturer  is  an  educated  man — a  lawyer  by  the  name  of 
Ernest  Jones.  He  was  imprisoned  by  the  government  for  a 
speech  at  a  Chartist  meeting,  in  1848,  and  during  his  confine- 
ment is  said  to  have  been  treated  with  great  inhumanity.  For 
two  years  he  was  incarcerated  in  Tothillfields  prison,  among  the 
vilest  criminals;  and  for  a  long  time  was  obliged  to  live  in  a  damp, 
unhealthy  cell,  where  he  was  placed  with  the  evident  intention  of 
destroying  his  life.  The  class  of  people  he  is  identified  with  are 
intelligent,  but  not  very  religious.  They  have  a  number  of  lec- 
turers among  them,  the  most  of  whom  are  clever  men,  not  one  of 
whom  has  escaped  the  dislike  of  the  government,  or  imprison- 
ment for  inflammatory  speeches  at  Chartist  and  other  meetings. 
Thomas  Cooper,  one  of  their  leading  lecturers,  is  a  remarkable 
person,  and  a  most  decided  disbeliever  in  Christianity,  as  in  fact 
are  all.  The  class  to  which  they  belong  is  large  and  daily  in- 
creasing, from  what  I  could  learn ;  and  if  they  were  to  let  religion 
alone,  and  direct  their  energies  to  the  reform  of  abuses  in  the  po- 
litical system  of  England,  would,  no  doubt,  eflfect  much  good;  but 
so  long  as  they  continue  as  they  are,  must  fail  to  do  anything 


124  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  IIKJIIWAY; 

more  than  bring  themselves  into  disrepute  with  all  classes  of 
Christians,  professing  and  unprofessing. 

The  government  allows  them  great  latitude  at  present,  but,  at 
the  same  time,  keeps  itself  well  informed  as  to  their  movements. 

The  English  anti-slavery  societies  are  very  much  impressed 
with  the  wretched  condition  of  the  slaves  in  our  Southern  States, 
but,  like  many  other  philanthropists,  they  have  a  wonderful  sym- 
pathy for  suffering  at  a  distance,  but  cannot  see  that  at  their  own 
doors.  They  expend  thousands  annually  in  disseminating  their 
doctrines,  and  in  keeping  their  philanthropy  before  the  world,  and 
think  themselves  charitable  in  the  extreme.  A  meeting  was  held 
by  one  of  them  while  I  was  in  the  metropolis,  and,  during  the 
day,  a  number  of  old  and  young  men  were  employed  in  carrying 
heavy  boards  through  the  streets,  on  which  were  pasted  flaming 
bills,  printed  with  large  letters,  calling  upon  the  humane  to  assem- 
ble in  their  strength,  and  express  their  opinions  against  ^*  the  in- 
famous system  of  American  slavery  V 

I  met  one  of  the  walking  ambassadors,  an  old  decrepit  man, 
with  scarcely  sufficient  clothing  to  cover  his  nakedness,  perambu- 
lating the  streets,  and  sweating  under  a  pair  of  heavy  placarded 
boards,  almost  enough  to  crush  him.  His  condition  was  forlorn, 
in  truth,  and  I  entered  into  conversation  with  him  respecting  the 
pay  for  being  thus  employed. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  "  how  much  I  will  get  until  I  go  in 
this  evening." 

**Tho  people  who  employ  you  have  plenty  of  money,  no  doubt, 
and  will  remunerate  you  liberally,"  I  interrogated.  "They  are 
very  good,  are  they  not  ?" 

"  None  of  them  have  ever  been  to  mc,  and  I  can't  say  whether 
they  are  to  others  or  not." 

"  How  much  will  they  give  you  for  carrying  those  boards  about 
all  day?" 

"  I  expect  eighteen  pence ;  but  I  may  not  got  so  much." 

"  How  many  hours  do  you  work?" 

"Tenor  more,"  he  replied;  and  on  further  inquiry  I  learned 
that  the  old  man  was  dinucrless  tliat  day,  and  those  in  whose  cm- 
ploy  he  was  could  not  help  but  know  it. 


125 

This  is  a  tappy  commentary  upon  the  benevolence  and  sympa- 
thy of  the  anti-slavery  societies  of  England,  and  their  practical 
philanthropy. 

A  few  evenings  after  this,  I  was  on  London  Bridge,  where  I 
met  with  a  decent  yellow  man,  from  Philadelphia,  who  was  almost 
naked,  and  without  shoes.  I  asked  him  where  he  was  from,  and 
he  immediately  told  me.  When  he  learned  that  I  was  from  the 
same  place,  he  was  greatly  delighted,  and  freely  narrated  his  hard- 
ships. He  went  to  London  in  a  merchant-ship,  and  foolishly  left 
it  under  the  impression  that  he  would  readily  find  employment, 
but  soon  learned,  to  his  sorrow,  that  he  had  made  a  mistake.  No 
one  would  give  him  work  or  money.  His  clothes  were  all  gone ; 
he  had  not  slept  in  a  bed  for  five  nights,  and  had  no  food  that  day. 
Tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks  as  he  related  his  sufferings  to  me, 
and  I  deeply  sympathized  with  him.  He  was  an  intelligent  man, 
and,  I  believe,  told  the  truth.  I  gave  him  sufiicient  money  for 
his  supper,  breakfast,  and  night's  lodgings,  and  promised  to  meet 
him  the  next  day,  which  I  did.  He  was  punctual  to  the  time 
appointed,  and  I  gave  him  a  pair  of  pantaloons  to  cover  his  naked- 
ness. He  was  unfeignedly  grateful,  and  told  me  that  he  would 
make  every  exertion  to  get  back  to  the  United  States ;  and  if  he 
succeeded,  no  one  would  ever  catch  him  in  England  again.  He 
had  no  seaman's  protection  with  him,  having  lost  it  while  ram- 
bling about  the  city,  and,  therefore,  had  no  claim  on  the  Ameri- 
can consul.  How  he  made  out,  I  never  learned,  as  I  never  saw 
him  again. 

Windsor  Palace  is  renowned,  the  world  over,  for  being  the  re- 
sidence of  the  Kings  of  England,  and  a  visit  to  it  is  regarded  a 
duty  by  the  stranger  in  London.  The  ancient  structure  is  about 
twenty-one  miles  from  the  metropolis,  in  Berkshire,  on  the 
Thames,  situate  on  a  commanding  eminence,  and  presents  a  noble 
sight,  view  it  from  what  point  you  may.  Its  many  towers,  its 
massive  walls,  its  great  extent,  and  solid  Gothic  grandeur,  impress 
the  beholder  and  carry  him  back,  in  thought,  to  the  days  of  chiv- 
alry and  civil  wars.  It  was  founded  by  William  the  Conqueror, 
and,  like  the  old  Norman  hero,  frowns  down  on  all  around  it,  sternly 
and  unflinchingly.     It  is  likely  that  no  castle  in  Europe  pre- 

11* 


126  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  IIIOHWAY  J 

serves  its  ancient  glories  so  well  as  Windsor,  and  none  is  more 
princely  or  magnificent.  The  terrace  around  it,  facing  the  Thames, 
and  overlooking  the  valley  of  that  stream,  as  well  as  the  town  be- 
low, and  the  famous  Eton  College,  is  considered  the  finest  in  the 
Old  "World.  Above  it  rise  the  sentinel  towers  and  massive  walls, 
while  before  you  stretches  out  the  splendid  promenade.  House- 
hold troops,  in  the  gaudy  uniform  of  the  English  army,  keep 
guard  at  certain  points  along  the  space,  and  heavy  guns  frown 
from  the  battlements.  The  proud  pile  is  of  great  magnitude,  and 
perched,  as  it  is,  on  a  bold  highland,  it  soars  grandly  up  with  its 
numerous  towers  and  splendid  terraces.  The  interior  is  in  charac- 
ter with  the  extent  of  the  place,  and  sufficiently  gorgeous  in  orna- 
ment and  decorations  for  the  residence  of  a  monarch.  My  com- 
panions and  self  were  admitted  on  presentation  of  our  tickets  to 
the  servant  in  attendance,  and  conducted  through  the  principal 
state  apartments.  The  rooms  are  grand  and  lofty,  hung  with 
tapestry  and  paintings,  and  adorned  with  sculpture.  One  of 
them  is  named  after  Vandyke,  the  great  Flemish  artist,  and  con- 
tains some  of  his  masterpieces.  Charles  the  First  is  boldly  set 
forth,  in  various  attitudes,  and  each  and  every  picture  of  him  ex- 
hibits the  same  pensive  face  given  him  by  all  artists.  His  ma- 
jesty will  go  down  to  the  latest  posterity,  surely,  if  pictures  will 
carry  any  man  there. 

The  departments  are  so  numerous  that  one  tires  of  them ;  and 
as  they  are  all  grand,  a  general  description  of  one  is  sufficient  for 
all.  The  presence  chamber  is,  probably,  the  most  attractive,  be- 
cause of  the  ornament  and  decoration.  The  walls  are  hung  with 
splendid  tapestry,  illustrative  of  scriptural  subjects,  the  furniture 
richly  gilt,  the  chairs  and  sofas  covered  with  red  damask  velvet, 
and  the  ceiling  painted  superbly  by  Verrio.  The  Waterloo  room 
is  hung  around  with  the  portraits  of  many  distinguished  men, 
whose  names  are  intimately  connected  with  the  great  event  from 
which  it  takes  its  name;  and  St.  George's  Hall  is  decorated  with 
the  portraits  of  nearly  all  the  English  kings,  with  cross-spears, 
helmets,  and  shields  on  the  walls  between  the  pictures.  The 
mast  of  the  linc-of-battle  ship  Victory,  on  whoso  deck  Nelson  foil, 
is  among  the  most  valued  wonders  of  a  particular  hall ;  and  at  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  127 

head  of  a  magnificent  staircase  leading  into  the  audience  chamber 
stands  Chantrey's  splendid  statue  of  George  the  Fourth. 

The  visitor,  unless  he  has  a  taste  that  way,  seldom  remains  long 
to  admire  extensive  rooms  and  costly  decorations,  but  is  soon 
satisfied  with  regal  splendors.  We  made  a  hasty  circuit  of  the 
state  apartments,  and  visited  the  famous  round  tower  of  the 
palace,  and  St.  George's  Chapel.  The  sacred  edifice  is  a  fine  speci- 
men of  Gothic  architecture,  with  a  splendid  choir,  lofty  nave,  and 
several  costly  monuments  to  persons  of  distinction,  the  most  at- 
tractive of  which  is  that  to  the  Princess  Charlotte. 

As  we  were  standing  in  the  eastern  wing  of  the  edifice,  the 
guide  informed  us  that  beneath  our  feet  were  the  remains  of  Ed- 
ward IV.  and  his  Queen ;  of  Henry  VI.,  Henry  VIII.,  and  Jane 
Seymour;  and  those  of  Charles  the  First.  The  bare  mention  of 
their  names  called  to  mind  a  flood  of  great  events  connected  with 
the  history  of  the  past,  and  a  strange  feeling  came  over  me  when 
I  realized  the  truth  that  I  was  standing  over  the  ashes  of  these 
monarchs.  Harry  the  Eighth  under  my  feet !  Yes  !  and  dead  at  that ! 

The  river  at  the  town  of  Windsor  is  a  pure,  quiet  stream,  some 
thirty  yards  wide,  and  flows  through  a  rich  valley  of  great  loveli- 
ness. Eton  College  is  close  to  the  palace,  and  that  renowned  seat 
of  learning  is  in  full  view  from  the  terrace.  The  park  around 
Windsor  contains  thousands  of  acres  of  land,  and  within  its  limits 
is  the  artificial  lake,  known  as  Virginia  Water,  formed  for  the 
gratification  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Heme's  Oak,  immortalized  by 
Shakspeare,  is  one  of  the  great  curiosities  of  the  park,  and  much 
resorted  to  by  tourists.  About  two  miles  below  Windsor,  on  the 
Thames,  is  the  village  of  Datchet,  the  spot  at  which  the  merry 
roysterers  plunged  Sir  John  Falstaff  into  the  river,  as  he  asserted, 
with  as  little  mercy  as  they  would  a  batch  of  blind  puppies. 

We  remained  some  hours  at  the  kingly  castle,  and  then 
slowly  wended  our  way  to  Slough,  and  thence  across  fields 
by  quiet  footpaths  to  Stoke  Pogis  Church,  the  scene  of 
Gray's  immortal "  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard,"  where  repose 
the  remains  of  the  great  classic  poet.  The  spot  is  one  of  the 
most  secluded  in  the  world,  and  the  old  church,  with  its  spire  point- 
ing to  heaven,  and  its  ivy-covered  walls,  presents  a  picture  that 


128  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

no  artist  could  resist  sketching,  aside  from  its  hallowed  associa- 
tions. A  marble  slab,  with  an  inscription  to  the  memory  of  Gray, 
is  placed  in  the  wall  at  the  east  end  of  the  church,  immediately 
in  front  of  the  tomb  wherein  the  remains  of  himself  and  his 
mother  repose. 

A  monument  to  the  memory  of  the  bard  was  erected  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  last  century,  on  an  elevated  piece  of  ground,  a 
short  distance  from  his  grave,  on  the  spot  where  he  is  supposed 
to  have  written  his  Ode  on  a  distant  prospect  of  Eton  College. 
That  ancient  seat  of  learning  is  in  full  view  from  the  point,  and 
the  lofty  turrets  of  Windsor  form  a  grand  feature  in  the  landscape. 
On  each  side  of  the  cenotaph,  extracts  from  his  poems  are  en- 
graved, and  a  double  charm  is  given  to  the  selection  by  the  scenes 
and  surrounding  localities. 

The  church  of  Stoke  Pogis  is  irregularly  built,  and  remarkably 
picturesque  in  appearance.  The  interior  is  adorned  with  tablets 
to  the  memory  of  the  deceased  gentry  of  the  neighborhood,  and  the 
coats  of  arms  of  several  families  embellish  the  walls.  The 
escutcheon  of  the  Penns  stands  conspicuous  among  them,  and  the 
word  "  Pennsylvania"  is  the  only  motto  it  bears.  One  of  my 
companions  and  myself  belong  by  birth  to  that  State,  and  it  was 
a  surprise  to  us  to  see  heraldry  added  to  the  name  of  William 
Penn.  His  descendants  abandoned  the  religious  creed  of  their 
illustrious  relative  many  years  ago,  and  for  several  generations 
past  have  been  connected  with  the  Established  Church  of  Eng- 
land. One  of  them  is  buried  in  Stoke  Pogis  Church,  but  no 
monument  or  record,  excepting  the  "  pomp  of  heraldry"  alluded 
to,  marks  the  tomb.  Wo  passed  several  hours  in  rural  enjoyment 
at  this  peaceful  place,  among  the  asicr-swathed  graves  and  rustic 
tombs,  and  at  the  close  of  a  delightful  summer  day  returned  to 
London,  to  mingle  in  the  roar  and  life  of  the  great  city. 


129 


CHAPTEE    X. 

LONDON  TO  OXFORD  AND  STRATFORD-UPON-AVON. 

After  a  prolonged  stay,  I  left  London  at  an  early  hour  in  the 
morning,  in  a  drenching  rain,  and  rode  through  the  streets  of  the 
city  on  an  omnibus,  from  St.  Paul's  down  Ludgate  Hill,  Fleet 
Street,  and  the  Strand,  to  the  station  of  the  Great  Western  Rail- 
•way  at  Paddington.  By  the  time  the  coach  reached  its  destina- 
tion, I  was  quite  wet,  and  as  the  storm  continued  unabated  all 
day,  there  was  but  little  opportunity  afforded  for  enjoying  the  old 
and  remarkable  in  cities,  or  the  beautiful  in  the  country.  My 
fellow-passengers  were  ignorant  and  stupid,  and  their  conversation 
was  senseless  and  unprofitable.  One  of  them  was  an  English 
sailor,  who  pretended  to  be  as  great  a  navigator  as  Captain  Cook, 
and  talked  about  himself  and  his  travels  almost  constantly,  and 
without  solicitation.  A  servant  girl  from  London,  on  a  trip  to 
her  parents  in  Wales,  won  his  admiration,  and  she,  no  doubt, 
loved  him  before  the  journey  ended,  for  the  same  reason  that 
Dcsderaona  did  Othello — the  hardships  he  said  he  had  suffered — 
for  she  evidently  believed  his  fables,  and  falsify  he  did  most  out- 
rageously. 

I  left  the  train  at  Didcot,  and,  after  a  short  ride,  arrived  at  the 
celebrated  city  of  Oxford,  the  great  English  seat  of  learning. 
This  ancient  place  has  a  solid  Gothic  appearance,  quite  pleasing  to 
an  American.  The  colleges  are  numerous,  and  as  most  of  them 
are  large  and  highly  ornamented  edifices,  the  visitor  finds  much 
to  examine  and  admire.  Christ  Church  is  the  largest,  and  owes 
its  origin  to  Cardinal  AVolsey.  It  is  a  quadrangle,  with  a  high 
tower  over  the  gateway,  in  which  hangs  an  enormous  bell,  which 
gives  name  to  that  structure.  The  picture-gallery  is  accessible  to 
visitors  on  payment  of  a  shilling,  and  as  my  curiosity  prompted 
me  to  see  what  was  worth  looking  at,  I  paid  the  fee,  and  examined 


130  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  mOHWAYj 

the  paintings  and  library.  Some  of  the  pictures  are  glorious  spe- 
cimens of  art,  and  the  collection  may  not  improperly  be  called  one 
of  the  most  valuable  and  complete  of  the  old  masters  in  England. 
The  entrance  hall  is  adorned  with  busts  of  distinguished  men  who 
have  at  various  times  been  connected  with  the  institution,  among 
which  is  one  of  Dr.  Busby,  the  renowned  "  whipping  master,"  as 
he  was  popularly  called  in  olden  times.  ^^  A  great  man,"  said 
the  knight,  throwing  his  hand  toward  the  tomb  of  Dr.  Busby,  "a 
very  great  man;  he  flogged  my  grandfather  once,"  is  a  passage  in 
the  Spectator,  and  if  greatness  consists  in  beating  people,  why  not 
award  praise  to  the  pedagogue  as  well  as  the  general  ? 

The  library  hall  is  a  large  room,  around  the  walls  of  which  are 
vast  numbers  of  valuable  works,  both  in  print  and  manuscript. 
The  floors  are  of  oak,  and  at  one  end  is  a  chair,  said  to  have  been 
the  property  of  Cardinal  Wolsey.  The  architecture  of  the  inte- 
rior does  not  present  any  remarkable  feature,  and  no  man  can  gain 
much  information  by  glancing  an  half  hour  at  a  large  collection  of 
books.  From  this  edifice  I  wended  my  way  to  the  Bodleian  Li- 
brary, one  of  the  largest  and  most  valuable  in  England.  The 
rooms  are  spacious,  and  contain,  besides  the  books,  pictures  and 
sculpture.  There  is  a  hall  in  the  same  building,  under  the  library, 
in  which  Charles  the  First  assembled  his  lords  during  the  civil 
wars,  and  which  Cromwell  afterwards  turned  to  a  better  use  by 
converting  it  into  a  stable  for  his  horses.  His  troops  broke  the 
stained  glass  in  the  windows,  and  did  much  injury  to  the  building; 
but,  excepting  the  colored  lights,  everything  has  been  restored  to 
its  former  condition.  The  floors  are  of  oak,  and  the  ceiling  of 
stone,  groined  and  arched.  The  adjoining  rooms  are  used  for  con- 
ferring degrees,  and  for  schools.  They  are  remarkably  plain,  both 
as  respects  furniture  and  architecture,  and  are  better  suited  to  a 
log  school-house  in  the  West  than  the  celebrated  University  of 
Oxford.  The  other  colleges  are  spacious  buildings,  quite  cele- 
brated in  their  way,  but  not  really  handsome.  The  Badclifie  Li- 
brary is  a  circular  edifice,  with  some  pretensions  to  architectural 
splendor,  but  worthy  a  visit  mainly  on  account  of  the  viow  of  Ox- 
ford to  be  obtained  from  the  top.     The  city  from  this  point  looks 


131 

very  fine.  The  whole  town  appears  to  consist  of  extensive  build- 
ings of  great  age,  with  towers  and  domes  and  tapering  spires. 

There  is  a  fine  Gothic  cross  to  the  memory  of  the  three  bishops, 
Cranmer,  Kidley,  and  Latimer,  who  were  burnt  at  Oxford,  during 
the  reign  of  Queen  Mary.  It  is  erected  on  the  spot  where  the 
burning  is  said  to  have  taken  place,  and  is  really  an  interesting 
object  to  visitors.  The  inscription  is  in  modern  church  text,  and 
sets  forth  in  florid  language  the  sufferings  of  those  who  died  for 
religion's  and  opinion's  sake.  It  is  popularly  called  the  Martyr's 
Memorial. 

As  my  visit  was  made  during  the  vacation  months  at  the  uni- 
versities, there  were  but  few  students  then  at  Oxford.  Those  I 
met  were  present  for  the  purpose  of  casting  their  votes  in  an  elec- 
tion connected  with  a  place  to  which  numbers  were  eligible.  They 
wore  a  long  black  gown,  similar  to  those  of  the  English  clergy, 
and  a  cap  with  a  square  top  of  the  same  color  made  to  fit  the 
head  closely.  Some  of  them  were  mere  boys,  while  others  had 
attained  to  years  of  manhood.  I  visited  every  college  in  the 
city,  and  strolled  leisurely  through  a  beautiful  arbor  in  the  grounds 
attached  to  Magdalene  College,  renowned  the  world  over  as  "  Ad- 
dison's Walk,"  and  after  a  pleasant  stay  set  out  on  my  journey  to 
the  ancient  town  of  Banbury,  distant  from  Oxford  about  twenty- 
five  miles. 

"To  Banbury  I  came,  0  profane  one! 
Where  I  saw  a  Puritane  one, 
Hanging  of  Lis  cat  on  a  Monday, 
For  catching  of  a  mouse  on  a  Sunday!" 

These  lines  rang  in  my  ears  for  some  time  before  my  entrance 
into  the  famous  place.  But  the  days  of  the  Puritans  are  past, 
and  if  Banbury  ever  did  witness  such  a  sight  as  described  by  the 
poet  traveller,  it  certainly  did  not  do  so  the  evening  on  which  I 
first  entered  its  old  thoroughfares.  I  trudged  slowly  along  its 
streets  with  my  knapsack  on  my  arm,  "  the  observed  of  all  ob- 
servers," and  not  being  very  desirous  of  so  much  notice,  I  soon 
made  my  way  to  an  inn.  It  was  externally  a  forbidding  house; 
but  a  man  must  not  take  the  outside  of  an  English  village  tavern 
as  an  evidence  of  its  internal  arrangements,  as  I  have  learned  from 


132 

frequent  lessons.  The  "  Red  Lion"  turned  out  to  be  a  well-fur- 
nished and  admirably  kept  hotel.  The  floors  and  stairs  were  car- 
peted, the  beds  curtained,  and  the  sleeping-rooms  clean  and  in- 
viting. I  was  disappointed,  and  expected  to  pay  for  the  extras  of 
the  room,  and  made  up  my  mind  accordingly;  but  in  this  I  was 
mistaken;  my  bill,  all  told,  for  supper,  bed,  breakfast,  and  the  ex- 
tortion of  servants'  fees,  was  three  shillings  and  seven  pence,  or 
less  than  ninety  cents. 

Banbury  is  a  quiet  place,  with  but  little  trade  and  not  much 
intelligence.  Some  of  the  streets  are  wide,  while  others  are  quite 
narrow,  and  all  are  abominably  crooked.  Although  Stratford-on 
Avon  is  only  twenty  miles  from  it,  I  was  obliged  to  ask  a  dozen 
persons  without  meeting  one  who  was  able  to  tell  me  which  road 
to  take  to  that  place.  An  old  man  whom  I  asked  hesitated,  and 
began  to  tax  his  memory,  when  I  ventured  to  aid  him  by  remind- 
ing him  it  was  the  town  in  which  Shakspeare  was  born  and  buried. 
"O  yes,"  said  his  wife,  who  was  standing  by,  "  I  read  it  in  the 
newspapers  not  long  ago  that  he  is  buried  there,  but  we  don't 
know  where  it  is."  I  left  them,  perfectly  content  with  their  ac- 
quirements; and  as  they  were  publicans,  and  likely  to  be  some- 
what intelligent,  I  made  no  further  inquiry,  and  relied  solely  upon 
my  own  geographical  knowledge  of  the  country.  Wraxton  Abbey 
is  on  the  road,  and  as  that  lies  near  to  Banbury,  I  learned  its  lo- 
cality, and  made  my  way  to  its  walls.  The  day  rose  beautifully, 
and  after  a  cold,  cheerless  rain  of  twenty-four  hours*  duration,  the 
sun  was  a  welcome  visitor.  I  turned  off  the  road,  and  on  making 
application  at  the  abbey  gate  for  admittance,  was  informed  that 
the  person  having  charge  of  the  building  was  not  in  at  that  time. 
The  edifice  is  located  in  a  valley,  surrounded  by  trees,  so  that  I 
could  only  got  a  glance  at  it  from  a  neighboring  eminence. 

My  walk  lay  through  several  villages  and  a  good  country. 
Some  of  the  hamlets  were  composed  entirely  of  straw-thatched  cot- 
tages of  one  story,  and  the  inhabitants  were  as  ancient  in  appear- 
ance as  the  homes  they  occupied.  One  that  I  entered  was  a 
representative  of  all.  The  floor  was  stone,  neatly  sanded,  the  fur- 
niture was  scanty,  but  the  entire  place  clean.  I  noticed  in  this 
cottage  what  I  frequently  observed  before,  that,  no  matter  how 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  183 

humble  thiDgs  were,  they  were  kept  tidy,  and  the  clothing  of  the 
cottagers,  even  though  patched,  was  neat. 

The  occupants  of  the  cottage  were  sociable  and  kind.  One 
was  a  perfect  specimen  of  the  old  English  peasant ;  the  other  the 
good  housewife  of  former  days.  The  old  man  handed  me  a  seat, 
and,  as  I  slung  my  knapsack  on  the  ground  and  accepted  the 
proffered  chair,  he  exclaimed,  "Ay,  that's  heavy,  lad;  ye  must 
be  sore  tired.  Come,  lass,  bring  a  pot  of  ale  for  the  stranger.'' 
And  I  soon  refreshed  myself  with  the  welcome  draught.  The 
friendly  peasant  and  his  wife  regarded  me  as  a  curiosity  when 
they  learned  that  I  was  from  America,  and  insisted  that  I  should 
drink  another  mug  of  home-brewed  before  bidding  them  fare- 
well. I  conversed  with  them  for  some  time,  and  when  we  parted 
it  was  with  a  hearty  "  God  bless  you  !"  from  the  kind  couple. 

The  village  lay  in  a  valley,  from  which  I  ascended  to  an  ele- 
vated plain,  over  which  I  leisurely  pursued  my  way  along  a  glo- 
rious road,  such  as  is  only  seen  in  England.  The  hedges  were 
green  and  odorous,  the  sky  pure  and  cloudless,  and  my  heart 
light.  I  was  on  my  direct  route  to  Shakspeare's  grave,  and 
realized  to  my  satisfaction  that  I  was  on  English  ground.  The 
soil  generally  was  better  than  that  in  many  other  counties  in 
which  I  had  been,  although  some  of  it  was  indifferent,  and  pro- 
duced but  little.  The  land  was  under  cultivation  throughout, 
but  not  all  of  it  in  grain.  Wheat,  barley,  hay,  oats,  beans,  and 
mangel-wurzel,  were  the  principal  products.  Several  fields  were 
used  for  grazing  purposes,  and,  in  fact,  the  raising  of  stock  ap- 
peared to  be  one  of  the  main  stays  of  the  farmer.  The  consump- 
tion of  meats  in  England  is  great,  and  the  demand  is  always 
equal  to  the  supply;  consequently,  the  farmer  raises  that  which 
brings  him  ready  cash,  and  at  the  same  time  improves  the  land. 
The  method  of  farming  may  be  better  than  ours,  but  I  could  not 
discover  in  what  it  is  superior.  The  appearance  of  the  country 
is  beautiful  to  the  eye,  and  as  the  land  is  either  in  grain  or  grass, 
and  not  an  inch  uncared  for,  the  American  traveller  usually  makes 
up  his  mind  that  the  English  cultivators  are  better  farmers  than 
those  of  the  United  States.  The  land  does  not  produce  more 
grain  to  the  acre  than  is  grown  with  us,  on  the  same  amount  of 
12 


134  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

ground,  and  the  yield  varies  from  as  low  as  ten  to  as  high  as  sixty 
bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre,  the  last  being  the  greatest  quantity 
obtained  in  the  interior  counties,  and  that  not  often.  The  uten- 
sils are  exceedingly  clumsy,  and  some  of  the  ploughs  require  as 
many  as  four  horses  to  draw  them.  I  have  seen  men  ploughing 
with  that  many,  one  ahead  of  the  other,  and  it  rarely  happens 
that  less  than  three  are  used.  The  men  who  do  the  work  are  but 
little  better  in  their  condition  than  the  farm-hands  in  the  south 
of  Ireland,  and  many  of  them  are  quite  as  ignorant.  Those 
with  whom  I  conversed  informed  me  that  they  received  but  from 
12d.  to  14J.  pence  per  day,  and  out  of  that  sum  several  of  them 
had  families  to  support  and  rent  to  pay.  They  complained  very 
much  of  their  situation,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  were  com- 
pelled to  live.  On  the  turnpike,  I  met  several  laborers  employed 
at  breaking  stone,  and  repairing  the  road,  who  were  really 
ashamed  to  tell  me  what  their  wages  were.  One  of  them  hung 
his  head,  and  said  it  was  little  indeed,  while  others  acknowledged 
that  those  who  broke  stone  received  eight  pence  per  square  yard 
for  what  they  broke,  at  which  rate  they  earned  sixteen  pence  per 
day,  and  the  laborers  got  one  shilling.  A  wagoner  informed  me 
that  his  wages  were  eight  shillings  a  week;  and,  said  he,  "A  poor 
man  finds  it  a  hard  job  to  feed  a  wife  and  seven  children  out  o' 
that,  and  pay  fourteen  pence  a  week  rent.''  He  knew  I  was  an 
American,  and  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  go  to  the  States ; 
many  of  his  acquaintance  were  there,  and  all  doing  well. 

I  stopped  at  a  cottage  at  a  toll-gate,  and  entered  into  conversa- 
tion with  a  young  married  woman,  who  dwelt  there.  She  was 
illiterate,  but  agreeable  and  hospitable.  She  showed  mo  the 
bouse.  It  had  but  two  rooms,  one  up  and  one  down  stairs,  the 
lower  one  of  which  was  paved  or  floored  with  stone  flags.  The 
furniture  was  scanty;  but  what  there  was,  was  good  and  clean. 
She  was  fond  of  flowers,  and  had  a  garden,  of  a  few  yards  in 
length,  in  which  she  cultivated  some  floral  gems.  She  confirmed 
what  the  men  had  told  mo  in  regard  to  wages,  and  said  it  was  not 
an  unusual  thing  for  men  to  work  in  the  fields  all  day  for  much 
less  than  a  shilling.  Her  husband  was  a  gardener  for  a  noble- 
man, near  at  hand,  and  received  but  poor  pay.     He  paid  ten 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  135 

pence  per  week  rent,  and  had  hard  work  to  support  himself  and 
family.  They  had  four  children,  all  young.  The  eldest  went 
to  school,  where  she  was  instructed  in  reading  and  writing  at  a 
cost  of  a  penny-ha' -penny  per  week.  Schooling  is  the  cheapest 
thing  the  poor  have  in  Warwickshire,  but  what  the  quality  of  it 
is  I  was  unable  to  learn. 

On  this  route  I  was  fortunate  in  beholding  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  prospects  in  the  world — the  Red  Horse  vale — from 
the  brow  of  Edgehill,  a  place  remarkable  for  the  first  engagement 
between  Cromwell  and  Charles  I.  The  old  Puritan  and  his  troops 
did  sad  havoc  among  the  royalists  on  that  memorable  day,  and 
now  the  bones  of  the  slain  enrich  the  land 

"Wliicli  the  rude  swain 
Turns  with  his  share  and  treads  upon." 

The  valley,  for  miles,  is  beautiful  beyond  a  pen  and  ink  de- 
scription. I  stood  upon  an  elevated  headland,  whose  green  sides 
rapidly  sloped  to  the  plain,  and  as  far  as  the  sight  extended,  to 
the  right  and  left,  stretched  the  glorious  scene.  Away,  in  the 
blue  distance,  arose  the  ^^  stormy  hills  of  Wales  ;'^  while  at  my 
feet,  and  before  me,  was  a  landscape  of  most  living  beauty — of 
fields  of  waving  grain,  divided  by  luxuriant  hedges,  and  traversed 
by  sinuous  roads.  The  blue  smoke  curled  up  from  the  cottage 
chimneys  on  the  farms,  and  the  sharp  spire  of  a  distant  village 
church  pierced  the  pure  air  above.  In  a  far-off  field  a  number  of 
reapers,  male  and  female,  were  at  labor ;  and  the  balmy  air  of 
morning  was  rich  with  the  scent  of  new-mown  hay  and  the  breath 
of  flowers.  The  landscape  looked  like  a  velvet  carpet,  adorned 
with  the  master  designs  of  a  great  artist,  and  woven  in  the  rich- 
est and  most  pleasing  colors.  I  gazed  for  an  hour,  drinking  in 
the  inspiration  of  the  scene,  and  contemplating  the  magnificent 
prospect  before  me.  It  was  unhackneyed  and  untravellcd.  I 
came  on  it  by  surprise,  and  my  delight  was  sincere  and  lasting. 

A  loquacious  innkeeper  wanted  me  to  look  at  some  rusty 
weapons  of  strife,  which  had  been  found  on  the  field  of  battle  at 
various  times,  and  could  not  understand  why  I  took  so  much 
pleasure  in  viewing  the  valley  and  surrounding  scenery.     He  was 


136  TUE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGOWAY  ; 

full  of  history,  and  could  point  out  the  very  spot  where  the  royal- 
ists first  gave  way ;  and,  if  I  had  permitted  him,  would  have  de- 
tained me  a  week  to  listen  to  his  descriptions  of  the  conflicts  which 
have  taken  place  in  the  valley,  for  it  has  been  the  scene  of  more 
than  one  bloody  encounter  between  furious  foes. 

My  road  lay  through  and  across  the  splendid  vale  before  me, 
and,  as  I  had  a  long  walk  to  accomplish  before  sunset,  I  descended 
into  the  plain  and  pursued  my  way,  a  lonely  pilgrim  to  Shak- 
spcarc's  tomb. 

The  walk  was  pleasant,  and  made  agreeable  by  occasional  con- 
versations with  such  of  the  peasantry  as  I  met.  One  young  fel- 
low walked  several  miles  with  me,  and  grew  quite  friendly  before 
we  separated.  He  was  clothed  in  the  usual  style  of  the  country 
people — smock  frock,  yellow  cloth  leggings,  coarse  shoes,  and 
short-clothes,  a  most  abominable  dress  to  my  way  of  thinking, 
lie  was  not,  by  any  means,  intelligent,  and,  although  we  were 
within  six  miles  of  Shakspeare's  birthplace,  and  he  himself  was 
born  near  the  famous  town,  he  knew  nothing  of  his  immortal 
countryman. 

The  scenery,  as  I  approached  Stratford-on-Avon,  grew  more  and 
more  lovely  the  nearer  I  drew  to  the  town,  and  at  last,  from  a 
gentle  knoll,  my  eye  caught  sight  of  the  tall  spire  of  the  church 
of  Holy  Trinity,  where  Shakspeare  lies  buried.  I  was  alone,  and 
on  foot,  weary  and  worn  with  many  miles  of  travel;  the  sun  was 
low  in  the  western  heavens,  and  the  soft  sky  of  an  English  sum- 
mer's evening  bent  over  the  famous  place  in  which  was  born  the 
greatest  of  England's  bards.  Dust  clung  to  my  mantle,  and  the 
beaded  sweat  was  upon  my  brow.  Before  mo  were  scenes,  the 
very  mention  of  whose  names  makes  the  heartstrings  of  the  lover 
of  poetry  thrill.  There  was  the  pensive  Avon — there  the  meadows 
in  which  Shakspeare  roved,  and  the  mausoleum  in  which  repose 
his' ashes.  I  could  scarcely  realize  the  truth  of  my  situation  for 
a  time,  and  joy  filled  my  heart  when  the  fact  was  made  clear  to 
my  senses.  One  of  the  brightest  dreams  of  my  boyhood  was,  at 
that  moment,  fulfilled,  and  Stratford-on-Avon  was  in  reality  be- 
fore me. 

I  slowly  crossed  the  old  stone  bridge  that  spans  the  stream  and 


137 

leads  into  the  town,  and  soon  entered  its  principal  street.  It 
was  near  the  close  of  a  market-day,  and  the  space  devoted  to  traf- 
fic was  filled  with  articles  of  trade,  and  crowded  with  citizens  and 
rustics.  I  passed  on  to  an  inn,  and  after  engaging  lodgings,  sal- 
lied out  in  search  of  the  house  in  which  the  bard  of  Avon  first 
drew  breath.  Henley  Street  is  neither  wide  nor  attractive,  nor 
are  the  houses  on  it  remarkable  for  architectural  beauty.  Its 
pavements,  however,  have  borne  the  tread  of  some  of  the  greatest 
of  intellectual  men ;  and  strangers  from  every  section  of  the  world, 
familiar  with  the  works  of  Shakspeare,  have  sauntered  along  that 
thoroughfare  to  the  house  in  which  he  was  born.  I  felt  that  the 
earth  beneath  my  feet  was  sacred,  as  I  moved  along  in  search  of 
the  humble  mansion  so  dear  to  the  admirers  of  the  great  dramatic 
bard,  and  soon  stood  before  the  quaint  old  structure  with  vague, 
undefinable  feelings,  such  as  we  are  prone  to  experience  when  we 
realize  an  aspiration  which  has  been  a  cherished  hope  from  child- 
hood,  yet  a  thing  we  feared  would  never  be  accomplished. 

The  house  is  two  stories  high,  antiquated  and  humble.  It  is 
open  to  strangers,  who  are  expected  to  make  a  small  purchase  in 
return  for  the  favor  of  standing  within  its  sacred  walls.  Tho 
lower  floor  is  flagged  with  stones,  and  the  room  in  which  the  im- 
mortal poet  first  saw  the  light  is  a  very  humble  apartment,  with  a 
floor  of  oak.  The  walls  are  almost  entirely  covered  with  the  i 
names  of  those  who  have  visited  the  house,  among  which,  the  old 
lady,  having  charge  of  the  place,  showed  me  the  autographs  of 
John  Kemble,  the  actor,  and  Emerson,  the  American  essayist ; 
and  also,  in  one  of  the  windows,  that  of  the  great  "  Wizard  of  the 
North,"  Sir  Walter  Scott,  written  with  a  diamond  on  a  pane  of 
glass.  I  recorded  my  humble  name  among  thousands  of  the  un- 
distinguished which  disfigured  the  ceiling  and  sides  of  the  room, 
and,  after  purchasing  a  few  mementos,  left  my  autograph  in  a 
book  kept  for  the  signutures  of  visitors.  The  old  lady  was  very 
obliging  and  communicative.  She  told  me  that  more  Americans 
came  to  the  house  than  any  others,  and  her  assertion  was  borne 
out  by  the  records.  I  asked  for  the  book  in  which  Washington 
Irving  had  written  his  name ;  but  it  was  not  there.  The  house, 
a  few  years  ago,  changed  owners,  and  at  that  time  the  book  in 

10* 


138  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  IIIfinWAY  J 

question  was  sold,  by  auction,  to  a  gentleman  in  London,  who 
was  curious  in  such  matters,  and  now  graces  the  library  of  a  pri- 
vate individual  in  the  metropolis. 

The  building  in  which  the  great  dramatist  died  was  torn  down 
years  ago,  and  the  places  which  attract  the  pilgrim's  attention  now 
are  '^  the  cradle  and  the  grave/' 

Distinguished  authors  have  described  Stratford  Church  in 
classic  language,  and  thousands  have  read  their  descriptions  with 
eagerness,  profit,  and  pleasure.  It  would  be  folly  in  me  to  attempt 
an  account  of  that  renowned  edifice,  and  yet  I  am  inclined  to  try, 
although  I  can  add  but  little  of  interest  to  what  has  already  been 
said.  It  is  a  noble  Gothic  structure,  of  great  beauty,  with  a  taper- 
ing spire  full  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  which  pierces  the 
air  like  a  pointed  arrow.  The  approach  is  through  an  arbor  of 
lime-trees,  which  form  an  inviting  walk,  and  as  the  church  is 
built  close  to  the  bank  of  the  sylvan  stream,  it  presents  a  splen- 
did prospect,  and  deserves  to  be  the  mausoleum  of  the  immortal 
bard. 

The  chancel  is  the  tomb  of  Shakspeare  and  his  descendants, 
and  there,  also,  repose  the  remains  of  his  wife — Anne  Hathaway. 
At  the  side,  near  the  vault  wherein  he  lies,  is  a  tablet  to  his 
memory,  surmounted  with  a  bust,  which  did  not  strike  me  as  a 
•correct  likeness.  There  is  a  fulness  of  face,  and  floppishness  of 
the  muscles,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  which  do  not 
indicate  cither  genius  or  intelligence.  It  is  not  my  ideal  of  Shak- 
speare, and  looks  more  like  the  bust  of  a  burly  butcher  than  of  the 
"  sweet  Swan  of  Avon."  The  vault  is  covered  with  a  rough  stone 
slab,  on  which  are  engraved,  in  the  orthography  of  the  poet's  day, 
these  lines  of  terrible  import  to  the  sacrilegious: — 

Good  friend,  for  Jesus' s  sake  forbear 
To  dig  the  dust  cnclos'd  here ; 
Blest  be  the  mnn  that  spares  these  stones, 
And  curst  bo  he  that  moves  my  bones. 

The  other  tombs  are  inscribed  with  the  date  of  the  birth  and 
death  of  his  children,  and  adjoining  are  the  graves  of  some  of  the 
nobility  of  the  country.     Figures  to  the  memory  of  a  once  noble 


139 

family  occupy  another  section  of  the  church ;  but  the  race  they 
honor,  like  that  of  the  bard,  is  extinct;  and  in  this  respect  only 
is  the  resemblance  borne  out,  for  what  their  names  are,  but  few 
learn,  and  none  care  to  remember. 

The  sexton  who  told  Washington  Irving  that  he  had  seen 
the  ashes  of  Shakspeare  was  guilty  of  a  pardonable  deviation 
from  the  truth,  which  has  given  rise  to  a  very  pretty  story  and  a 
cherished  conceit.  It  is  almost  sacrilege  to  break  the  charm  j 
but  the  truth  ought  to  be  told,  and  I  will  be  censurable  in  tell- 
ing it  if  there  be  censure  attached  to  a  statement  of  facts.  The 
present  sexton  is  grandson  to  the  one  celebrated  by  my  country- 
man, and  he  says  it  was  and  is  impossible  to  see  the  remains  of 
the  bard  from  the  place  represented.  The  vault  said  to  have 
been  opened  for  the  purpose  of  burial  at  the  time  alluded  to  is 
not  within  two  feet  of  the  grave  of  Shakspeare,  and  from  the 
location  of  the  two  burial-places  there  exists  no  doubt  but  that 
Irving  was  imposed  upon.  My  guide  showed  me  the  tomb,  and 
pointed  out  the  impossibility  of  seeing  through  two  feet  of  solid 
earth  into  the  grave  of  Shakspeare,  for  in  digging  the  vault  it 
is  not  likely  that  the  narrow  house  would  have  exceeded  by  that 
distance  the  usual  dimensions  allotted  to  man.  But  the  conclu- 
sive proof  is  that  no  vault  has  been  opened  immediately  along- 
side that  of  the  poet  for  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  years;  and 
unless  his  remains  are  exhumed,  there  is  scarcely  a  possibility  of 
mortal  eye  beholding  them  until  the  final  resurrection,  when  ocean 
and  earth  shall  restore  all  that  their  arms  entomb,  and  the  mortal 
put  on  immortality. 


140  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGH  WAY  j 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WARWICK,  KENILWORTH,  BIRMINGHAM,  AND  THE  GRAVE  OF 
SHENSTONE. 

By  the  stage  route  from  Stratford-on-Avon  to  Warwick,  the 
traveller  has  a  fine  panoramic  view  of  the  silent  stream  and  adja- 
cent country — the  broad  meadows  through  which  the  immortal 
bard  was  wont  to  roam,  and  the  domain  over  which  his  poaching 
propensities  used  to  lead  him.  The  day  on  which  I  left  the  famous 
locality  was  beautifully  clear,  and  an  outside  seat  agreeable.  The 
passengers  were  a  gentlemanly  set  of  men,  quite  republican  in 
their  sentiment,  although  they  occasionally  exhibited  an  affection 
for  royalty.  After  an  hour's  ride,  we  entered  the  old  town  of  War- 
wick, and  had  a  view  of  its  famous  castle,  a  towering  building  of 
immense  proportions  and  great  strength.  Its  lofty  turrets  rise  up 
like  proud  sentinels,  and  add  a  feudal  feature  to  the  quiet  town 
under  its  shade  to  which  it  gives  name.  My  fellow-travellers 
left  me  here  with  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand  and  a  wish  for  the 
prosperity  of  ray  noble  country,  hoping  to  have  the  plea.sure  of 
meeting  me  again,  while  I  pursued  my  way  to  Leamington,  a 
modern  town  near  Warwick,  of  great  beauty  and  noted  for  its 
mineral  spas.  It  is  of  recent  date,  and  in  appearance  is  as  clean 
and  attractive  as  most  American  towns.  The  streets  are  wide,  and 
mostly  shaded  with  trees,  which  give  the  place  quite  a  suburban 
aspect.  Five  miles  from  Leamington  are  the  hale  old  ruins  of 
Kenil worth  Castle,  a  text  from  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  wrote  a 
novel.  It  is  overgrown  with  ivy  and  much  shattered,  although 
its  walls  look  as  if  they  would  bravo  the  storms  of  another  thousand 
years.  It  is  hid  from  view  as  you  approach  from  the  village  by  a 
grove  of  young  oaks,  and  when  first  seen  it  comes  upon  the  sight 
in  all  its  ruined  grandeur  and  lordly  glor^.  The  remains  are 
massive,  and  bear  evidence  to  the  magnificence  of  the  building  in 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  141 

its  prime  and  habitable  days.  It  is  extensive,  and  one  of  the 
rooms,  which  is  nearly  entire,  gives  an  adequate  idea  of  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  apartments,  when  they  echoed  to  the  voices  of  stern 
lords  and  ladies  fair.  In  ancient  days  there  was  a  lake  within 
the  walls  which  inclose  the  castle,  but  now  it  is  also  fallen,  and 
dwindled  to  a  pond  of  stagnant  water.  There  were  some  gentry 
present  from  Leamington  rambling  among  the  fallen  fragments 
and  around  the  broken  towers  of  the  glorious  ruin ;  while  in  a 
meadow,  at  the  castle's  side,  once  used  as  a  tournament  ground,  a 
number  of  reapers  were  engaged  at  labor.  The  day  was  showery, 
but  not  sufficiently  so  to  destroy  the  enjoyment  of  the  visit,  or 
prevent 

**  The  lords  and  ladies  from  making  love, 
Or  the  clowns  from  making  hay," 

I  sauntered  back  to  the  station,  and  in  a  short  time  found  my- 
self in  the  ancient  town  of  Coventry,  celebrated  for  being  the  place 
in  which  the  good  Lady  Godiva  performed  an  equestrian  feat  in  a 
costume  neither  wove  nor  spun,  which  excited  the  laudable  curiosity 
of  one  of  the  sterner  sex,  and  gained  for  his  inquisitive  honor  the 
world-wide  sobriquet  of  Peeping  Tom  of  Coventry.  Tennyson, 
the  poet,  has  woven  the  story  into  beautiful  measure,  where  the 
lovers  of  the  curious  will  find  a  rich  treat.  "  He  waited  for  the 
evening  train  at  Coventry,"  and  while  contemplating  the  quaint 
old  city  and  its  three  lofty  spires,  made  immortal,  through  exqui- 
site verse,  the  story  of  the  lady  and  the  knave. 

The  town  is  old  and  strange.  The  houses  are  peculiar  to  the 
place,  and  the  streets  are  both  crooked  and  dirty.  Every  year 
the  good  citizens  celebrate  the  freedom  of  their  ancient  city  by  a 
procession,  in  which  a  young  girl,  dressed  in  clothing  as  delicate 
as  that  worn  by  ballet-dancers,  acts  a  prominent  part,  and  rustics 
from  far  and  near  assemble  to  witness  the  display.  I  was  in  Lon- 
don when  the  exhibition  came  off  in  the  summer  of  1851,  and 
thousands  went  from  the  metropolis  to  view  the  spectacle.  1  had 
no  ambition  that  way,  and  rest  perfectly  content  now  with  my 
ramble  through  the  town,  while  "waiting  for  the  evening  train 
to''  Birmingham. 


142  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

The  great  Work-Shop  of  England,  as  Birmingham  may  justly 
be  called,  is  one  of  the  meanest  cities  in  appearance  in  the  realm. 
There  is  scarcely  a  redeeming  feature  about  it,  and,  excepting  the 
Town  Hall,  not  a  single  building  deserving  of  particular  note.  The 
streets,  like  the  streets  of  all  English  towns,  are  wretchedly  crooked, 
and,  what  may  be  said  to  be  a  Birmingham  peculiarity,  are  narrow, 
irregular,  filthy,  steep,  awry,  badly  paved,  lined  with  indifferent 
houses,  and  clouded  even  in  clear  weather  with  smoke ;  while  on 
damp  or  wet  days  they  are  so  obscured  with  it  that  a  man  must 
be  blest  with  wonderfully  acute  vision  if  he  is  able  to  see  one  hun- 
dred yards  along  any  of  the  few  straight  thoroughfares  in  the 
place.  It  is  situate  nearly  in  the  centre  of  England,  on  what  is 
said  to  be  the  highest  land  in  the  country,  except  the  various 
mountains;  and,  like  Manchester,  usually  receives  a  shower-bath 
from  the  clouds  five  out  of  the  seven  days  of  the  week. 

Like  all  the  English  manufacturing  towns,  it  is  plentifully  sup- 
plied with  poor  people.  In  roaming  round  the  city,  I  met  decent- 
looking  men  and  women  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  street  singing 
songs  for  what  pence  the  moving  or  gaping  throng  felt  inclined  to 
give  them,  and  at  sundown  the  thoroughfares  are  the  places  of  ex- 
hibition of  negro  singers  and  similar  performers.  I  cannot  think 
that  these  people  voluntarily  follow  such  occupations  as  a  means 
of  livelihood,  for  it  does  not  stand  to  reason  that  a  person  would 
go  into  the  open  street  as  a  low  performer  to  earn  a  precarious  sub- 
sistence, if  work  were  obtainable  whereby  a  living  could  be  had 
without  the  disgrace  or  insults  to  which  one  is  subjected  who  fol- 
lows the  business  of  an  itinerant  street  exhibiter.  Beggars  were 
more  common  than  in  London  (probably  because  begging  is  tole- 
rated to  a  greater  extent  than  in  the  metropolis),  and  in  the  even- 
ing men  are  to  be  met  asking  alms,  and  exposing  their  mutilated 
limbs  to  enlist  the  sympathies  of  the  benevolent.  I  met  more 
than  a  dozen  diflcrent  mendicants  with  their  legs  or  arms  off,  and 
several  blind  and  otherwise  afflicted  by  explosions  in  mines,  or 
accidents  on  railways.  Ballad-singers  were  roaming  the  streets, 
singing  in  dolorous  tune  the  blight  of  crops  or  the  misfortunes 
of  rustic  lovers,  while  gaping  children  listened  to  the  rambling 
musician  or  his  doggerel  rhymes.     Take  it  all  in  all,  Brumimujcn 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  143 

(as  it  is  called  by  the  lower  natives)  is  a  peculiar  town — deserving 
a  visit  from  the  traveller,  both  on  account  of  the  mixed  character 
of  its  inhabitants,  and  the  extent  and  variety  of  its  manufactures. 
Every  variety  of  metallic  and  ornamental  wares  is  produced  in 
Birmingham,  and  she  really  supplies  the  world  with  a  certain 
class  of  her  manufactures.  Steel  pens  are  made  there  in  im- 
mense quantities,  and  the  number  of  persons  employed  exclu- 
sively in  giving  form  and  temper  to  those  iron  recorders  amounts 
to  some  thousands.  I  visited  the  extensive  establishment  of  the 
Messieurs  Gillott,  and  saw  the  process  of  manufacture  from  rolling 
the  iron  into  sheets  of  the  requisite  thickness  to  the  finishing  of 
the  pen.  The  steel  is  received  from  SheflSeld  in  a  condition  for 
being  converted  into  writing  instruments,  and  first  cut  into  strips 
two  inches  wide,  and  pickled  to  remove  the  scale;  then  rolled  to 
the  required  thickness;  after  which  it  is  passed  into  the  hands  of 
females  who  are  seated  at  presses  worked  by  hand,  and  by  them 
cut  at  one  blow  into  flat  pieces  of  a  particular  shape,  which  are 
the  future  pens.  Side-slitting  and  piercing  follow,  which  are  also 
done  on  a  hand-press,  fitted  up  with  a  punch  and  bolster ;  after 
which  the  blanks,  as  they  are  called,  are  annealed  in  quantities 
in  a  muffle.  The  maker's  name  is  next  stamped  upon  them,  and 
then  they  are  pressed  into  a  concave  form,  the  last  process  of 
forming  the  barrel  pen.  Hardening,  which  requires  great  care 
and  trouble,  is  done  by  heating  in  a  muffle  to  a  certain  degree, 
after  which  the  pens  are  steeped  in  oil,  which  is  cleaned  off  by 
whirling  them  round  in  a  cylinder.  They  are  next  scoured  by 
the  same  process,  with  the  exception  that  powdered  crucibles  and 
other  cutting  substances  are  placed  in  the  cylinder  along  with  the 
pens,  which  produces  on  all  a  bright  surface.  The  grinding  on 
the  point  is  done  with  great  rapidity  on  an  emory  wheel,  after 
which  they  go  to  the  "  slitter,^'  who  is  provided  with  a  pair  of 
cutting  shears  fitted  into  a  hand-press  so  accurately  that  a  careful 
examination  is  necessary  to  detect  that  the  two  blades  are  not 
one.  The  pen  is  rested  on  the  portion  at  the  bottom,  the  handle 
turned,  and  the  slit  made.  The  shades  of  blue  and  straw-color 
are  produced  by  heat.  The  pens  are  placed  in  a  cylinder  in  large 
quantities,  which  revolves  on  a  charcoal  stove,  and  the  change  of 


144  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  j 

color  watched  until  that  desired  is  attained,  when  the  cylinder 
and  its  contents  are  removed.  The  brilliancy  of  the  external  sur- 
face is  given  by  lac  dissolved  in  naphtha,  to  which  heat  is  applied 
until  the  spirit  evaporates,  when  the  lac  alone  remains,  and  the 
pen  preserves  its  lustre,  and  is  finished.  The  white  marks  on 
some  are  produced  by  grinding  them  at  such  points  on  an  emory 
wheel.  I  have  been  thus  particular  in  detailing  the  process  of 
making  a  steel  pen  for  the  gratification  of  those  who  use  them, 
that  they  may  know  what  labor  is  required  to  produce  a  thing  so 
small  and  useful.  The  girls  employed  in  their  manufacture  pre- 
sented a  better  appearance  than  any  others  I  saw  in  England, 
about  the  workshops.  They  were  well  clothed,  healthful,  and 
had  quite  intelligent  faces.  I  spoke  to  one  who  was  grinding 
pens,  an  employment  very  hard  upon  the  fingers,  and  she  gave 
ready  and  respectful  replies  to  my  inquiries.  As  I  left  her,  a 
companion  asked,  *'What  is  he?''  "Oh!  an  American;  I  know 
him  by  his  sharp  face,  and  the  kind  manner  in  which  he  spoke  to 
me." 

The  variety  of  the  manufactures  of  Birmingham  is  great,  and 
herproducts  singular.  In  proof  of  this  I  can  say  that  she  has  sent 
forth  almost  every  article  that  can  be  made  from  iron  and  com- 
posites, as  well  as  cotton  and  flax.  The  skill  and  ingenuity  of 
her  artisans  are  astonishing,  and  the  readiness  of  her  master- 
workmen  to  manufacture  anything  proverbial,  no  matter  what  it 
may  bo,  so  they  get  paid.  The  "  News  of  the  World,"  a  London 
publication  of  July  20,  1851,  said  that  "it  is  a  matter  of  no- 
toriety that  the  strongest  and  stoutest,  the  best  and  the  cheap- 
est slave-fetters  to  be  found,  are  manufactured  in  Birmingham ;" 
and  it  is  equally  notorious  that  she  furnished  rifles,  swords,  mus- 
kets, and  artillery  to  the  enemies  of  Great  Britain,  both  in  Africa 
and  India,  thereby  giving  evidence  that  as  it  was,  and  is  her 
business  to  manufacture,  she  is  ready  and  willing  to  furnish  arms 
to  friend  or  foe,  so  that  she  is  the  gainer. 

There  is  not  much  of  a  romantic  character  in  Birmingham, 
but  some  sections  of  the  surrounding  country  present  fine  scenery, 
as  well  as  ruins  old,  and  massive  halls.  The  town  of  Hales-Owen, 
celebrated  as  the  birthplace  and  burial-place  of  Shenstone,  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  145 

poet,  is  distant  about  seven  miles,  and  near  it  are  the  Leasowes, 
the  once  sylvan  home  of  the  bard.  I  walked  from  Birmingham 
to  the  town  named  for  the  purpose  of  leisurely  viewing  the  coun- 
try, and  observing  what  was  curious  on  the  route.  During  my 
ramble,  I  stopped  several  times  at  the  small  workshops  on  the 
road,  and  the  scene  that  one  of  them  presented  it  is  difficult  to 
describe.  The  place  was  small,  with  a  forge  and  anvil  for  two 
workmen.  I  made  an  apology  to  an  old  man  for  my  intrusion, 
which  was  kindly  received,  and  at  his  invitation  I  took  a  seat. 
He  and  his  wife,  an  aged  grayhaired  woman,  were  busily  engaged 
in  making  nails  for  the  heavy  shoes  worn  by  the  rustics  and  la- 
boring poor  of  the  country.  I  expressed  surprise  at  a  woman  being 
thus  employed,  and  asked  whether  it  was  a  usual  thing. 

"  Oh  yes  !  I  ha^  been  at  it  for  more  than  sixty  years,"  said  the 
woman ;  ''  and  there  are  many  women  beside  me  at  nail-making." 

"  For  sixty  years  !  why,  how  old  are  you,  madam  ?"  I  inquired. 

"I  will  be  sixty-eight  soonj  and  I  was  put  at  the  business 
when  I  was  but  six  years  old;  and  it  was  not  uncommon  i'  that 
day  for  youngsters  to  be  put  to  work  so  soon." 

*^How  much  do  you  earn  in  a  day?" 

"Not  much,  sir.  A  person  maun  work  hard  for  thirteen  or 
fourteen  hours,  and  then  be  a  very  good  han,'  to  earn  eighteen 
pence,  out  of  which  he  maun  pay  for  his  fire,  and  find  the  tools." 

"The  wages  were  better  once  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes;  but  that's  a  long  while  ago.  The  masters  are  always 
cutting  down  wages,  and  now  a  great  many  of  our  neighbors  are 
on  the  strike  against  a  reduction  of  four  shillings  i'  the  pound." 

"  But  what's  the  cause  of  the  reduction  ?" 

"  That  we  cannot  tell.  The  masters  always  have  some  excuse 
for  cutting  off  the  wages  of  the  poor.  Every  year  they're  at  it, 
and  I  don't  think  they'll  ever  stop." 

I  told  her  that  she  was  so  old  that  she  ought  to  quit  work,  and. 
rest  for  the  balance  of  her  days. 

"  Yes,  I  wish  I  could ;  but  if  I  do  na'  work,  I  must  go  to  the 
workhouse  or  starve,  and  I  don't  wish  to  do  either.  I  have 
worked  long  enough,  and  I  think  I  ought  to  be  rich ;  but  it  is 
13 


146  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGUWAY  ; 

not  such  as  ought  to  be  rich  as  are  so ;  and  as  I  am  poor,  I  must 
work  on  till  I  die,  which  canno'  be  long  now.'^ 

I  stayed  some  time  conversing  with  this  pair.  They  informed 
me  that  they  paid  a  shilling  rent  per  week  for  their  house,  and 
earned  about  enough,  when  work  was  to  be  had,  to  keep  them 
from  want.  Their  clothing  was  scanty,  and  their  house  poorly 
furnished.  The  old  woman's  sight  was  very  dim,  and  when  she 
turned  her  dull  eyes  upon  me  I  could  not  help  but  pity  her  hope- 
less condition.  She  was  on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  and  by  the 
sternest  necessity  was  compelled  to  bend  to  her  daily  task  over 
the  anvil  to  earn  a  living  at  a  species  of  labor  the  most  arduous 
and  trying  to  man.  I  parted  with  them,  after  giving  them  a  few 
pence,  and  they  both  came  to  the  door  and  bade  me  adieu  with  a 
blessing. 

Hales-Owen  lies  in  a  valley,  and  is  principally  famous  for  its 
proximity  to  the  Leasowes,  the  once  romantic  home  of  the  poet. 
That  estate  is  now  sadly  neglected  to  what  it  was  in  the  bard's 
time  ;  no  "  rural  fays  and  fairies"  deign  to  tread  its  ruined  walks, 
and  but  few  pilgrims  roam  through  its  arbors.  For  many  years 
it  was  a  favorite  resort  of  the  admirers  of  cultivated  nature,  and 
pensive  lovers ;  but,  like  all  sublunary  things,  its  days  of  glory 
have  gone,  and  desolation  rules  in  the  classic  domain. 

The  church  of  the  town  is  remarkable  for  a  very  beautiful 
spire  of  great  altitude,  and  for  containing  an  urn  to  the  memory 
of  Shenstone.  His  grave  is  in  the  churchyard  immediately  be- 
side a  footpath,  and  as  its  stone  covering  is  level  with  the  earth, 
it  is  worn  by  the  tread  of  many  feet,  until  the  inscription  is  nearly 
obliterated.  I  arrived  in  the  village  sufficiently  early  to  meet  the 
aged  sexton  at  the  shrine  before  ho  had  gotten  through  with  his 
morning  duties,  and  with  his  permission  I  spent  some  time  in  the 
church.  lie  was  a  talkative  old  man,  with  a  fund  of  legendary 
lore,  and  quite  amiable  in  his  manners.  lie  conducted  me  through 
the  ancient  edifice,  pointing  out  the  most  remarkable  tombs,  and 
sat  quietly  chatting  of  his  early  days  and  courtship  in  the  walks 
of  the  Leasowes,  whilst  I  copied  the  verses  on  the  urn  to  the 
poet's  memory.  Before  us  was  the  memorial ;  at  my  side  arose  a 
clustered  Gothic  column;  the  grayhaired  old  man  was  seated  near 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  147 

me,  and  the  subdued  rays  of  the  sun  fell  on  his  figure  through 
the  mullioned  window  in  the  choir.  It  was  a  rich  scene,  and 
caused  me  to  t|pnk  it  not  an  unapt  picture  of  a  sprig  of  forest 
America,  in  converse  with  a  true  representative  of  old  England. 
The  lines  on  the  tribute  are  no  doubt  in  the  published  works  of 
the  bard,  but  I  have  no  recollection  of  ever  seeing  them  before.  The 
poet  of  Hales-Owen  was  celebrated  in  his  day ;  but,  at  present, 
only  a  few  persons  turn  out  of  their  way  to  pay  homage  to  his 
genius,  and  a  fee  to  the  sexton.     The  inscription  is  as  follows  : — 

WILL.  SHENSTONE. 
Ob.  11th  Feby.  1763— JEt.  49. 
Whoe'er  thou  art,  with  reverence  tread 
These  sacred  mansions  of  the  dead ; 
Not  that  the  monumental  bust, 
Or  sumptuous  tomb  here  guards  the  dust 
Of  rich  or  great :  (Let  wealth,  rank,  birth 
Sleep  undistinguished  in  the  earth :) 
This  simple  urn  records  a  name 
That  shines  with  more  exalted  fame. 
Reader !  if  genius,  taste  refined, 
A  native  elegance  of  mind ; 
If  virtue,  science,  manly  sense ; 
If  wit  which  never  gave  offence ; 
The  calmest  head,  the  tenderest  heart, 
In  thy  esteem  e'er  claimed  a  part. 
Ah !  smite  thy  breast  and  drop  a  tear, 
For  know  thy  Shenstone's  dust  lies  here! 

The  poetry  of  the  lines  is  of  that  class  that  is  said  "to  belong 
to  neither  gods  nor  men;"  nor  is  the  statement  respecting  the 
resting-place  of  the  bard's  ashes  true.  But  it  is  the  rhymer's 
license  to  deal  in  fiction,  and,  therefore,  the  assertion  may  be  al- 
lowed for  convenience  sake.  Thousands  who  visit  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  believe  that  England's  greatest  men  lie  buried  there, 
when  the  truth  is  that  the  remains  of  three  or  four  only  are  in- 
terred in  that  celebrated  mausoleum.  Shakspeare,  Dryden,  Pope, 
Milton,  Gray,  Goldsmith,  and  many  others  have  monuments  in 
the  grand  old  abbey,  but  their  dust  moulders  afar  from  the  spot. 

Hales-Owen  is  the  picture  of  an  English  town  a  hundred  years 


148  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

ago.  Secluded  and  nestled  in  a  valley,  it  receives  but  few  visitors ; 
and  as  its  inhabitants  are  content  with  a  retired  life,  they  seldom 
go  far  from  their  dwellings.  When  a  stranger  co^s  among  thera, 
as  I  did,  they  evidently  regard  his  advent  as  a  remarkable  event 
in  the  history  of  the  place,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  judge  from  the 
commotion  my  presence  among  them  produced. 

From  thence  to  Dudley,  a  distance  of  six  miles,  there  is  an  al- 
most unbroken  hamlet.  The  tall  chimneys  of  the  forges  emit  a 
black  smoke,  and  the  steam  from  the  engines  at  the  coal-pits  forms 
a  strong  contrast  to  the  dark  vapor.  At  one  of  the  villages  there 
was  a  meeting  in  session  of  the  workmen  on  the  strike,  and  the 
condition  of  the  men  who  formed  the  assemblage  was  far  from 
flattering.  They  were  badly  clothed,  and  pale  and  sickly.  I 
stayed  and  listened  to  the  speakers  for  some  time,  but  none  of  them 
proposed  a  reasonable  means  of  permanent  relief.  They  were 
illiterate,  and  spoke  the  grating  dialect  of  the  country,  which  was 
certainly  best  suited  to  the  audience,  and  though  plain  and  com- 
mon-place language  was  used,  it  was  such  as  the  workmen  wanted 
to  hear.  In  a  conversation  with  some  of  the  men,  I  learned  the 
particulars  of  the  strike;  and  their  statements  confirmed  those 
made  by  the  old  man  and  his  wife  respecting  labor  and  wages. 
They  appeared  to  think,  however,  that  the  final  result  of  their 
action  would  be  to  accept  the  reduced  prices,  and  work  and  starve 
on! 

The  houses  in  the  villages  are  miserable  hovels,  a  degree  supe- 
rior to  the  thatched  cottages  of  the  Irish  peasantry — and  a  degree 
only.  They  are  tolerably  well  lighted,  and  contain  some  furni- 
ture, but  not  much.  The  most  of  them  are  kept  clean,  so  far  as 
that  is  possible  in  an  atmosphere  of  black  smoke,  and  the  few 
articles  of  household  goods  they  contain  are  those  of  utility. 

There  are  numerous  coal-pits  on  the  route — some  of  them  of 
great  depth;  but  my  curiosity  did  not  prompt  me  to  descend  into 
them.  The  workmen  engaged  in  raising  the  iron  and  coal  (for 
both  are  obtained  from  the  same  pit)  informed  me  that  their 
wages  varied  from  five  to  ten  shillings  per  week,  and  then  they 
were  compelled  to  labor  very  hard  to  earn  that  much.  I  saw 
boys,  and  even  women  at  work  at  these  places,  assorting  and 


149 

shovelling  coal  into  wagons,  some  of  whom  earned  the  miserable 
pittance  of  two  shillings  in  six  days.  One  of  the  girls  was  a  fine- 
looking  lass  of  prepossessing  appearance,  and  it  was  a  sickening 
sight  to  see  her  laboring,  like  a  galley-slave,  with  a  shovel  among 
the  inky  fuel.  But  what  else  was  she  to  do  ?  She  could  get  no 
other  work,  and  if  she  did  not  do  that,  she  must  starve. 

Many  of  the  children  of  the  district  are  sent  to  cheap  schools, 
where  they  are  instructed  in  the  rudiments  of  reading  and  writ- 
ing— a  blessing  their  parents  never  enjoyed.  This,  however,  is 
not  general,  and  thousands  of  the  present  generation  must  grow 
up  in  brutal  ignorance. 

Dudley  is  a  town  of  about  15,000  inhabitants,  and,  as  it  is 
located  in  the  coal  and  iron  district,  it  carries  on  a  considerable 
trade.  On  an  eminence  overlooking  it,  stand  the  ruins  of  the 
Castle,  a  picturesque  old  pile,  said  to  have  been  erected  in  the 
year  700,  by  a  Saxon  chief.  The  great  halls  and  once  princely 
apartments  where,  of  yore,  the  gay  and  chivalrous  assembled,  are 
now  weather-worn  ruins  and  roofless  cells,  echoing  only  to  the 
tread  of  the  tourist  or  the  sounding  storm.  The  remains  of  the 
tower  of  the  Donjon-Keep  are  very  imposing,  and  command  a 
view  of  surpassing  beauty  and  extent.  While  I  was  upon  them, 
a  thunderstorm  came  up,  making  the  heavens  black.  The  dark 
smoke  belched  forth  from  the  thousand  towering  chimneys  in  the 
surrounding  valleys,  and  added  a  deeper  blackness  to  the  angry 
clouds,  while  the  iron  furnaces  which  cover  the  landscape  sent 
out  the  glare  of  their  red  flames,  making  a  burning  and  smoking 
hell  of  the  plain;  nor  is  the  expression  too  strong  when  we  in- 
troduce into  the  picture  the  swarthy  forms  of  the  workmen  glid- 
ing about  the  apertures  to  the  sunless  caves  beneath,  and  the 
forked  lightning  as  it  broke  through  the  black  and  muttering 
clouds  above. 


150  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGH  WAY  J 


CHAPTER   XII. 

LICHFIELD — STAFFORDSHIRE  POTTERIES — CHESTER — AN    OLD 
FRIEND — PRESTON,  ETC. 

From  Birmingham  to  Lichfield,  is  a  distance  of  twenty  miles, 
and,  as  the  last-named  town  is  celebrated  for  being  the  birthplace 
of  Dr.  Johnson,  I  wended  my  way  thither. 

It  contains  one  of  the  finest  cathedrals  in  England,  and  a  sta- 
tue of  the  celebrated  essayist,  both  of  which  are  sufficient  attrac- 
tions for  the  stranger,  and  draw  hundreds  to  the  town  who  would 
never  think  of  visiting  it  without  some  such  objects  of  interest 
were  there.  The  building  is  very  large,  being  491  feet  by  151, 
and  surrounded  by  a  splendid  close,  or  inclosure.  It  was  erected 
in  the  year  1180,  and  suffered  much  during  the  civil  wars,  at 
which  time  it  was  garrisoned  by  the  royalists  and  besieged  by  the 
parliamentary  forces.  The  front  is  elaborately  ornamented,  and 
adorned  with  a  great  number  of  effigies  in  stone  of  saints  and 
kings,  and  exquisitely  chiselled  scrolls  and  devices.  Some  repairs 
have  recently  been  made,  but  as  they  are  only  partial  they  rather 
destroy  than  add  to  the  beauty  of  the  edifice.  The  interior  is 
really  magnificent,  and  contains  several  statues  of  great  beauty, 
among  which  are  those  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Garrick,  and  Lady  Mary 
Wortloy  Montague,  and  others  less  distinguished.  The  finest 
statuary  is  a  work  of  Chantrey,  erected  over  the  tomb  of  two  chil- 
dren. The  statue  of  the  great  lexicographer  is  neither  a  fine  piece 
of  sculpture  nor  an  attractive  one.  It  is  placed  in  the  market- 
square,  not  far  from  the  birthplace  of  the  Doctor,  and  represents 
him  in  a  recumbent  position  and  thoughtful  mood.  The  panels 
of  the  pedestal  are  ornamented  with  bas-reliefs,  illustrating  events 
in  the  life  of  Johnson,  and  an  inscription  setting  forth  that  the 
statue  was  presented  to  the  town  by  the  chancellor  of  the  dis- 
trict.    Lichfield  was  once  the  residence  of  Dr.  Darwin,  and  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  151 

house  in  which  he  lived  and  wrote  his  "  Zoonomia"  is  shown  to 
visitors.  At  St.  John's  Free  School,  Dr.  Johnson,  Addison, 
Garrick,  and  other  eminent  men,  received  the  rudiments  of  their 
education. 

The  town  is  quiet,  and  contrasts  strongly  with  its  neighbors, 
"Wolverhampton,  Wedneshury,  and  Walsall,  which  are  under  a 
cloud  of  black  smoke,  while  the  former  is  open  to  the  clear  light  of 
day.  As  I  pursued  my  way  into  the  country,  I  turned  to  look  at 
its  fine  cathedral,  and  a  glorious  scene  burst  upon  my  sight.  It 
is  a  massive  and  grand  pile,  soaring  above  the  surrounding  build- 
ings in  majestic  splendor.  The  distant  prospect  of  the  noble 
edifice  alone  should  be  a  sufficient  inducement  for  making  a  visit 
to  Lichfield. 

I  left  the  birthplace  of  the  great  scholar  with  feelings  akin  to 
regret,  strolled  along  under  the  shade  of  the  hedges  to  the  station, 
and  took  passage  to  Colwich,  in  Staffordshire,  at  which  there  is  a 
branch  railway  leading  into  the  Potteries.  The  village  is  small, 
and  presents  no  attractions  beyond  its  church  and  the  walls  of  a 
nunnery  near  by.  While  waiting  for  the  train,  I  paid  a  visit  to 
the  place  of  worship,  and  gazed  around  the  interior  upon  the 
tablets  and  memorials  which  the  friends  of  deceased  relatives  have 
raised  to  commemorate  the  virtues  of  the  dead.  In  one  part  is  a 
monument  to  Sir  Thomas  Wolsey,  who  was  drowned  some  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago,  and  whose  family  has  been  extinct  for  ages. 
The  effigy  is  sadly  mutilated,  and  the  face  is  divested  of  its  nasal 
appendage,  which  gives  it  a  comical  and  ludicrous  expression.  In 
the  chancel  there  are  several  really  beautiful  tablets  to  the  memory 
of  different  members  of  the  Anson  family,  and  a  number  of  me- 
morials to  other  individuals  less  distinguished,  and  lower  in 
England's  classification  of  men.  The  nunnery  is  a  short  distance 
from  the  church,  situate  on  a  hill,  and  surrounded  by  high  walls 
and  shrubbery.  It  was  founded  about  twelve  years  ago,  and  its 
occupants  have  the  name  of  being  kind  to  the  poor  and  attentive 
to  the  sick  and  friendless. 

The  village  lies  a  short  distance  from  the  station,  and  is  princi- 
pally built  upon  one  street.  The  houses  are  humble  places,  hun- 
dreds of  years  old,  mostly  covered  with  ivy,  or  festooned  with 


152  TUE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

clambering  jessamine  and  other  flowers,  and  look  the  very  reality 
of  the  cottages  of  English  poetry,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  are. 
They  did  not  detain  me  long,  and  taking  the  train,  I  was  soon 
carried  away,  through  rural  scenery,  to  the  potteries  of  Stafford- 
shire. Stoke-upon-Trent,  a  forbidding  town,  and  its  sister  villages, 
Burslem  and  Lane-End,  both  of  which  share  its  characteristics, 
constitute  the  principal  part  of  the  earthenware  and  Chinaware 
district,  and  are  mean,  filthy  places,  although  exhibiting  great  ac- 
tivity and  bustle. 

The  pottery  business  is  a  disagreeable  and  laborious  one  in 
nearly  all  its  branches,  and  furnishes  work  to  men,  women,  and 
children.  The  ornamental  designs  which  adorn  the  ware  are  put 
on  by  transferring  pictures  printed  from  copperplate  engravings. 
The  process  is  simple,  and,  when  a  person  sees  it  applied,  there  is 
no  mystery  as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  accurate  drawings  and 
exquisite  designs  are  produced  on  China  and  other  earthenwares. 
I  conversed  with  numbers  of  workmen,  and  all  of  them  appeared 
very  well  satisfied  with  their  wages ;  but  they  informed  me  that  it 
was  a  bright  time  for  them,  and  they  were  fearful  it  would  not  last. 

The  towns  in  this  district  are  straggling  places,  or  rather  a  con- 
tinuation of  villages.  The  houses  of  the  operatives  have  no  par- 
ticular charms,  and  as  the  same  black  coal  is  used  in  the  furnaces 
that  serves  for  fuel  throughout  the  kingdom,  the  atmosphere  is 
filled  with  smoke,  and  the  dwellings  are  dingy  with  soot.  The 
rustics  are  a  clownish  set,  and  mostly  dressed  in  a  costume  un- 
known in  the  United  States.  Knee-breeches  are  common,  and 
coarse  boots,  with  soles  full  three-quarters  of  an  inch  thick,  filled 
with  heavy  nails,  are  the  usual  coverings  for  the  feet.  The  dialect 
is  broad  and  unintelligible,  and  unless  a  stranger  has  had  some 
previous  acquaintance  with  the  jargon  of  the  natives,  he  is  likely 
to  be  as  far  from  undcrst-anding  their  outrageous  language  as  ho 
would  bo  the  speech  of  a  Kickapoo  or  Pottawatomie  Indian. 

Wet  weather  did  not  improve  the  appearance  of  the  villages, 
nor  was  there  anything  to  detoin  mo  after  examining  the  manu- 
factories. So,  once  more  taking  train,  I  proceeded  on  my  journey 
to  Chester,  an  ancient  city,  situate  on  the  River  Dec,  about  cigh* 
teen  miles  from  Liverpool.    Tt  is  walled  round,  and  the  houses  on 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  153 

several  of  the  streets  are  so  built  as  to  form  an  arcade  of  the 
second  stories  for  a  considerable  distance,  which  affords  a  conve- 
nient promenade  and  protection  to  pedestrians  in  stormy  weather. 
The  walls  are  nearly  three  miles  in  length,  and  pass  through  the 
new  part  .of  the  city,  and  around  the  old.  They  are  a  fashionable 
resort,  and  present  many  fine  views  of  the  valley  of  the  river,  and 
the  surrounding  country.  At  one  point  is  a  tower  whereon  Charles 
I.  stood  and  witnessed  the  defeat  of  his  army  on  a  neighboring 
moor  in  1645. 

Chester  is,  properly  considered,  a  remarkable  town,  and  it  is 
one  that  defies  description.  The  traveller  may  write  about  the 
footwalks  of  the  main  avenues  being  in  the  second  stories  of  the 
houses,  but  he  cannot  convey  to  the  minds  of  his  readers  a  picture 
of  the  reality.  To  say  that  you  can  walk  a  considerable  distance 
under  cover,  one  story  above  ground,  will  give  perhaps  the  best 
idea  of  the  arcades  of  Chester  to  a  person  who  has  never  seen 
them.  In  Trinity  Church,  in  a  street  called  the  Watergate,  in 
the  lower  part  of  the  town,  near  the  walls,  are  the  graves  of  Par- 
nell,  the  poet,  and  Matthew  Henry,  the  commentator.  The  sexton 
conducted  me  through  the  edifice,  and  pointed  out  the  tombs  I 
sought.  The  tablet  to  the  memory  of  the  bard  has  been  broken, 
and  now  lies  as  rubbish  in  the  vaults  beneath  the  floor ;  that  to 
the  memory  of  the  divine  bears  a  slight  inscription,  and  is  a  very 
plain  affair. 

The  most  interesting  building  is  the  cathedral,  a  noble  Gothic 
edifice,  once  used  as  an  abbey.  One  of  the  entrances  is  through 
an  arched  way,  formerly  the  garden  gate  of  the  ascetics,  which 
leads  to  the  walks  connected  with  the  religious  establishment. 
The  interior  of  the  structure  is  adorned  with  carvings  and  orna- 
mental devices,  and  has  a  triforium,  where,  it  is  said,  the  nuns  of 
yore  were  accustomed  to  sing  the  praises  of  the  Deity,  and  bow 
their  sacred  heads.  Tombs  are  numerous;  but  the  inhabitants  are 
neither  famous  nor  remarkable  for  anything  but  the  monuments  to 
their  memories,  and  therefore  not  worth  naming.  I  visited  the 
silent  cells,  where  of  old  the  Eremites  were  wont  to  offer  up  their 
orisons,  and  trod  the  cloisters  with  a  step  solemn  and  slow,  re- 
flecting upon  the  ancient  day,  and  the  revolutions  made  by  time. 


154  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  nianwAY ; 

The  hoary  walls,  the  crumbling  fane,  and  the  sacred  gloom  of  the 
inner  court,  invested  the  venerable  pile  with  a  charm  irresistible 
in  its  influences  to  lead  the  mind  captive  to  pleasing  contemplation 
and  divine  melancholy. 

For  some  weeks  I  had  been  a  solitary  wanderer  in  lonely  places, 
without  the  company  of  friends,  or  the  gratification  of  seeing  a 
familiar  face.  Wherever  my  wanderings  led,  there  was  I  alone, 
until  reaching  Liverpool,  where  I  unexpectedly  met  with  one  of 
my  fellow-passengers,  whom  I  had  not  seen  since  we  crossed  the 
great  deep  together.  He  had  been  to  Italy  and  through  other 
continental  countries  since  we  parted,  and  bore  the  effects  of  for- 
eign travel  upon  his  face,  in  the  shape  of  a  pair  of  well  cultivated 
mustaches,  which  he  became  admirably.  Our  meeting  was  one 
of  sincere  pleasure  and  mutual  happiness,  and  riveted  the  chain 
of  friendship  stronger  than  before.  There  was  nothing  of  cold 
indifference  in  his  manner,  and  when  he  grasped  my  hand  a 
gleam  of  uncontrolled  delight  shot  across  his  manly  face,  and  lit 
up  his  cheerful  countenance.  There  was  a  sincerity  in  that  wel- 
come that  will  cause  me  ever  to  remember  my  worthy  friend  and 
fellow-voyager,  Andrew  McMakin,  Esq.,  of  the  Philadelphia 
^'American  Courier,"  and  esteem  him  while  life  lasts.  We  com- 
pared notes,  asked  a  thousand  questions  of  each  other^  and  parted 
once  more  to  pursue  our  respective  journeys. 

The  great  port  was,  as  usual,  wet  and  gloomy,  and  by  no  means 
attractive.  I  left  it  for  Preston,  in  Lancashire,  a  town  situate  on 
the  River  Ribble,  a  stream  of  considerable  size  and  great  beauty. 
It  is  the  cleanest  of  the  English  manufacturing  towns,  and  presents 
an  appearance  entirely  different  from  its  sister  cities.  There  is 
a  walk  of  a  mile  or  more  in  extent  along  the  river,  which  affords 
some  fine  prospects  and  much  pleasure  to  the  denizens  of  the 
place.  An  arbor  of  trees  forms  a  promenade  on  an  eminence 
overlooking  the  pensive  Kibble,  and  no  town  of  the  same  size  has 
so  many  facilities  for  the  rational  enjoyment  of  its  inhabitants  as 
l*reston.  The  streets,  in  the  upper  part,  are  kept  in  excellent 
condition;  and  although  the  cotton-mills  are  numerous,  still  the 
black  smoke  of  their  chimneys  does  not  discolor  the  houses  to  the 
extent  that  those  of  Manchester  and  Sheffield  suffer  from  the  sooty 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  155 

vapor.  The  laboring  people  do  not  differ  from  the  same  class  in 
the  other  towns,  if  I  may  judge  from  their  general  appearance; 
but  the  mass  of  the  citizens  look  well,  and  their  condition,  with 
the  cleanliness  of  the  place,  impresses  one  favorably  with  the  town 
and  its  inhabitants.  Arkwright,  the  inventor  of  the  spinning- 
mule,  was  a  native  of  Preston,  and  realized  a  fortune  in  its  neigh- 
borhood. The  citizens  of  the  adjoining  districts  speak  lightly  of 
the  place,  and 

"Proud  Preston,  poor  people, 
Low  church  and  high  steeple," 

is  regarded  as  a  correct  character  of  it  and  its  denizens. 

From  Preston  to  Lancaster  is  a  pleasant  ride  "  by  rail,"  and  as 
the  road  lies  near  the  hills  and  sea,  much  that  is  attractive  is  to  be 
seen.  This  town  is  blessed  with  an  ancient  castle,  of  formidable 
and  imposing  appearance,  which  serves  the  double  purpose,  at 
present,  of  jail  and  fortification.  Near  the  place  are  the  Lancas- 
ter Sands,  that  part  of  Morecambe  Bay  which  lies  between  Ulver- 
stone  and  Lancaster,  and  which  is  made  bare  twice  a  day  by  the 
receding  tides,  excepting  the  channels  of  the  Rivers  Kent  and 
Leven,  and  over  which  is  a  road  for  carriages  and  pedestrians. 
The  government  pays  guides  to  direct  travellers  across  at  the  pro- 
per time ;  but,  in  spite  of  the  precaution,  lives  are  frequently  lost, 
and  the  passage  is  a  dangerous  one,  unless  a  person  has  an  experi- 
enced pilot.  The  distance  over  is  eleven  miles,  and  a  man  must 
travel  pretty  fast  if  he  wishes  to  avoid  being  overtaken  by  the  ris- 
ing waters. 


156  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  LAKE  COUNTRY  OP  ENGLAND. 

After  leaving  the  town  of  Lancaster,  I  passed  rapidly  into  the 
mountainous  districts  of  Westmoreland  and  the  lakes.  The  hills 
are  rugged  and  rocky,  but  where  the  grass  grows  the  surface  is  of 
the  richest  velvet  green.  I  remained  a  while  at  the  ancient  town 
of  Kendal,  a  place  of  13,000  inhabitants,  situate  on  the  River 
Kcnl,  a  brawling  brook,  from  which  it  takes  its  name.  The  ruins 
of  a  castle  adjoin  the  place;  and  a  church  of  the  olden  times,  con- 
taining a  number  of  curious  monuments  and  relics  of  the  past,  in- 
vites the  stranger  to  a  stroll  within  its  walls.  My  walk  from  this 
mountain  village  to  Windermere  was  over  a  rough  and  hilly  road, 
and,  as  the  day  was  quite  warm,  the  perspiration  rolled  from  me  as 
I  trudged  along  under  a  heavy  knapsack.  The  bright  and  trans- 
parent waters  of  the  lake  at  last  gladdened  my  sight,  and  after  a 
comfortable  rest  at  an  inn,  I  pursued  my  journey  to  its  sylvan 
shores.  The  village  of  Bowness  overlooks  the  water,  and  com- 
mands some  fine  prospects  j  but  as  the  highlands  partially  shut 
out  the  view  to  the  south,  I  plodded  on  to  Ambleside,  along  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  lake,  which  village  is  situated  at  its  northern 
extremity.  Windermere  is  the  largest  sheet  of  water  in  England, 
but  the  scenery  is  tame,  except  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of 
the  hamlet  just  named,  at  which  place  the  mountains  rise  majesti- 
cally to  a  considerable  height,  and  as  I  approached  them  their 
bold  and  rugged  fronts  stood  out  in  wild  beauty  against  the  even- 
ing sky.  Ambleside  lies  in  a  valley,  near  a  stream  called  the 
Rothay,  which  connects  Rydal  Water  with  its  more  extensive 
neighbor,  and  is  principally  important  as  a  temporary  residence 
of  tourists  to  the  surrounding  country.  The  majority  of  the  in- 
habitants keep  furnished  lodgings  for  visitors,  and  the  traveller 
finds  but  little  difficulty  in  obtaining  excellent  accommodations 


157 

in  a  private  house,  with  all  the  retirement  of  a  home,  at  moderate 
charges. 

I  entered  the  village  tired  enough,  and,  observing  a  notice  of 
'lodgings  to  let''  conspicuously  displayed  in  the  front  window  of 
a  comely  little  cottage,  I  made  application  for  them,  and  was  ac- 
cepted as  a  renter.  The  hostess  was  a  plain  young  Scotch  woman, 
of  agreeable  manners,  and  cheerful  disposition.  She  conducted 
me  to  my  allotted  apartments,  and  hastened  to  prepare  my  tea. 
The  sleeping-room  was  clean  to  a  fault,  the  sheets  and  quilts  white 
as  snow,  the  place  neatly  carpeted,  and  provided  with  table  and 
chairs. 

A  little  girl  brought  me  a  pitcher  of  water,  and  with  a  slight 
tap  at  the  door  asked  me  what  further  I  would  require,  and  what 
I  would  have  for  tea.  She  took  my  order  with  a  smile  of  ac- 
knowledgment, and  noiselessly  descended  the  stair  to  aid  her  mo- 
ther in  fulfilling  it. 

In  due  time  she  again  tapped  at  my  door,  and  with  a  courtesy 
and  smile,  said,  "  Please,  sir,  tea  is  ready."  At  her  bidding  I 
followed  to  the  dining-room. 

The  meal  was  prepared  with  care,  the  cloth  was  spotless  white, 
the  tea-set  clear  China,  and  the  apartment  plain  but  neat.  Hot 
water  had  been  poured  into  the  cup  to  keep  it  warm,  and  the 
bread  was  cut  into  thin  slices,  buttered,  for  my  convenience.  "If 
you  require  anything,"  said  the  little  dame,  "please  ring  the 
bell,  sir;"  and,  with  a  smile  of  cheerfulness,  she  left  me  alone. 
The  tea  had  been  drawn,  the  egg  was  done  to  a  nicety,  and  my 
meal  was  grateful. 

The  master,  as  the  father  of  a  family  is  designated  in  England, 
whether  high  or  low,  returned  home,  shortly  after ;  but  a  formal 
recognition,  as  if  he  felt  himself  inferior  to  me,  was  all  he  uttered. 
The  wife  and  child  were  like  him,  and  neither  of  them  ventured 
to  converse  with  me,  even  at  my  solicitation.  They  preserved 
a  respectful  silence  when  I  spoke,  or  replied  in  monosyllables,  not 
knowing  what  to  make  of  me.  I  did  not  persevere  in  my  attempts 
to  encourage  them  to  sociability,  as  they  were  clearly  unaccus- 
tomed to  meet  lodgers  who  put  them  on  terms  of  equality. 

I  considered  myself  fortunate  in  obtaining  a  home  with  mine  host, 
14 


168  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  manwAY; 

and  after  a  short  rest  from  a  fatiguing  walk,  clambered  up  Lough- 
rigg  Fell,  a  bold  jutting  mountain  which  rises  immediately  at  the 
head  of  the  lake,  and  affords  a  comprehensive  and  magnificent 
prospect  of  the  surrounding  country.  Windermere  stretches  away 
to  the  south,  its  shores  lined  with  gradually  sloping  hills,  while 
minor  basins  of  water  lie  among  the  surrounding  mountains,  and 
rapid  streams  foam  and  roar  at  the  foot  of  the  rocky  highland. 
Behind,  to  the  north,  the  highest  peaks  loom  up  to  the  skies  with 
their  broken  and  irregular  summits,  while  in  the  vale  beneath 
lies  the  little  town,  with  its  church  spire  pointing  to  heaven,  like 
a  startled  dove  nestling  under  the  broad  shadow  of  the  mountain. 
Rydal  Knab  or  Knab  Scar,  near  the  residence  of  the  poet  Words- 
worth, forms  the  background  to  the  picture  that  way  in  connec- 
tion with  bold  and  towering  cliffs,  and  to  the  west  the  scenery  is 
wild  and  chaotic,  giving  a  strong  impression  of  what  is  the  savage 
grandeur  of  more  rugged  mountain  districts.  At  the  foot  of  the 
hill  in  that  direction  there  is  a  village,  and  beyond  iJie  valley 
rises  the  tower  of  a  really  beautiful  church  (surmounted  by  a 
cross),  perched  upon  a  knoll  in  a  meadow  of  the  brightest  green, 
along  the  borders  of  which  rushes  a  crystal  stream  which  takes  its 
rise  among  the  springs  of  the  Langdale  Pikes,  two  high  hills  to 
the  north-west.  The  view  comprehends  the  principal  mountains 
of  that  section  of  the  island,  and  affords  distant  prospects  of  Conis- 
ton  and  other  lakes  in  addition  to  Windermere. 

One  of  the  best  walks  about  Ambleside  is  that  along  the  west- 
ern shore  of  the  Rothay.  The  high  cliffs  of  Loughrigg  Fell  and 
its  neighboring  hills  overhang  innumerable  cottages  and  villas 
of  great  beauty,  whose  walls  are  partially  hid  by  an  umbrageous 
growth  of  ivy  and  clambering  roses.  The  dark  hills  rise  abruptly 
and  precipitously  behind  these  elfin  haunts,  and  add  greatly  to 
the  charms  of  the  little  domiciles.  The  village  of  liydal  contains 
but  few  dwellings,  nearly  all  of  which  arc  of  the  character  of  those 
to  which  reference  has  just  been  made.  Wordsworth's  house  is  a 
secluded  cottage,  quietly  perched  upon  the  side  of  a  towering  and 
jagged  mountain,  which  rises  like  a  black  wall  behind  it,  while 
around  is  a  thick  growth  of  trees,  and  near  by  a  modest  little 
church.     The  lake  is  a  sheet  of  transparent  water  about  half  a 


159 

mile  long,  completely  encircled  by  hills,  whose  frowning  fore- 
heads overshadow  its  glassy  surface.  A  road  winds  along  its 
shores,  and  at  one  point,  at  the  northern  end,  the  old  highway 
leads  over  a  rocky  pass  to  the  adjacent  water  of  Grasmere,  in  the 
church  of  which  village  is  Wordsworth's  grave.  The  view  from 
this  road  (which  is  only  used  by  pedestrians  at  present)  either 
way  is  splendid,  and  amply  repays  the  tourist  for  climbing  up  its 
rugged  and  stony  surface.  The  two  sheets  of  water  are  small, 
clear,  and  picturesque,  and  present  a  scene  of  great  splendor. 
Far  away  to  the  north  of  Grasmere  village,  which  lies  on  the 
shores  of  the  lake  in  a  verdant  valley,  looms  up  Helm  Crag,  on 
whose  summit  nature  has  performed  a  singular  freak,  by  so  dis- 
posing some  heavy  fragments  of  rock  as  to  form  the  perfect  figure 
of  a  huge  lion  couchant,  with  flowing  mane,  and  ponderous  paw 
resting  upon  what  appears  to  be  the  body  of  a  dead  lamb.  The 
illusion  is  perfect,  and  the  forms  clearly  and  distinctly  defined. 
Around,  high  hills  rise  up,  and  with  the  exception  of  a  road  lead- 
ing over  Dunmail  Raise,  a  pass  at  the  northern  end  of  the  valley, 
there  is  no  apparent  outlet  from  Grasmere.  The  aspect  of  the 
country  under  a  bright  sun  is  fine,  but  when  the  god  of  day  de- 
parts, and  evening's  shadows  fall  on  the  sides  of  the  hills,  the 
prospect  is  one  of  singular  beauty.  The  rich,  soft,  velvety  ver- 
dure peculiar  to  the  humid  atmosphere  of  England  becomes  mag- 
nificent to  the  eye  in  the  long  twilight,  and  when  the  hills  are 
covered  with  it,  the  effect  is  exquisite.  I  rambled  for  miles 
around  the  lakes  named,  and  sought  out  secluded  retreats  by 
roaring  cascades  and  rapid  mountain  rills,  where  it  was  pleasure 

**  To  sit  on  rocks  and  muse  o'er  flood  and  fell, 
Or  slowly  trace  the  forest's  shady  scene." 

I  never  had  a  great  partiality  for  the  bards  of  the  Lake  School, 
and  confess  myself  unable  to  comprehend  much  of  Wordsworth's 
heavy  verse;  but  I  admire  their  haunts,  and  agree  that  they 
exhibited  taste  in  the  selection  of  their  homes.  Nowhere  can 
the  poet  find  scenery  better  calculated  to  win  him  from  the  world» 
than  in  Cumberland  and  Westmoreland.    Rude,  rugged  nature  is 


IGO 

there  untamed  and  wild;  and  when  looking  down  into  the  chasms 
between  the  hills,  from  the  crown  of  Loughrigg  Fell,  Shelley's 
sublime  lines  flash  upon  the  mind  : — 

"  Is  this  the  spot  where  the  giant  earthquake 
Taught  her  young  ruin  ?" 

And  in  wandering  along  the  roaring  streams  and  quiet  meadows 
of  the  vales,  wherein  the  husbandman  labors  under  the  shadow  of 
the  rocky  walls  of  the  mountain,  a  quiet  musing  steals  into  your 
soul,  and  you  wonder,  not  that  England  has  produced  so  many 
poets,  but  that  ^e  has  produced  so  few.  Almost  every  English- 
man should  be  a  bard. 

Near  Ambleside  are  some  faint  traces  still  visible  of  a  Roman 
fortification,  built  by  that  heroic  and  wonderful  people  when  they 
held  possession  of  that  remote  and  secluded  country.  They  arc 
near  the  head  of  Windermere,  and  under  the  shadows  of  Lough- 
rigg Fell,  and  served  as  a  post  in  olden  time  for  the  protection  of 
the  interests  of  Rome  in  the  mountain  sections  of  England.  A 
road  then  led  over  the  top  of  one  of  the  mountains,  connecting  with 
other  military  points  further  north,  and  at  this  day  tiles  are  occa- 
sionally dug  up,  which  once  formed  a  part  of  that  paved  way. 

After  nearly  a  week's  residence  at  the  quiet  village,  I  set  out 
on  a  pedestrian  journey  to  Keswick,  at  Derwent water,  but  unfortu- 
nately was  taken  ill  on  the  road,  and  compelled  to  return.  In 
passing  the  head  of  Rydal  Water,  I  encountered  a  gypsy  camp, 
in  which  were  several  of  that  people.  They  were  a  rough,  ill- 
looking  set,  filthy  and  wretchedly  poor,  and  their  general  appear- 
ance did  not  lead  me  to  desire  an  intimate  acquaintance.  Their 
tent  was  pitched  under  a  ledge  of  rocks,  and  several  of  them 
were  stretched  out  on  the  grass  along  the  lake  shore,  while  an  old 
woman  was  busily  engaged  in  preparing  their  morning's  meal.  I 
passed  them  without  entering  into  conversation,  and  was  entirely 
satisfied  to  get  out  of  their  vicinity,  as  their  vagabond  looks  fully 
satisfied  me  that  honesty  of  purpose  was  not  a  main  feature  of 
their  characters.  I  pursued  my  route  for  six  miles  from  Amble- 
side, and  then  returned,  and  remained  until  my  health  was  com- 
paratively restored. 


OR^  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  161 

In  my  invalid  state,  I  took  occasional  walks  and  drives  in  the 
vicinity,  and  once  extended  my  rambles  as  far  as  the  church  at 
Grasmere.  The  shrine  is  now  the  tomb  of  Wordsworth,  and  on 
my  visit  a  neat  tablet  with  a  medallion  likeness  of  the  poet  had 
just  been  placed  in  the  wall.  The  bard  worshipped  at  times  in 
the  edifice,  and  quietly  sleeps  where  he  was  wont  to  listen  to  the 
strains  of  the  morning  hymn.  Both  he  and  Byron  are  buried 
in  humble  village  churches,  and  both  tombs  are  alike  the  objects 
of  pilgrimages. 

In  ray  strolls  around  the  country,  I  met  several  parties  of 
Germans  with  their  knapsacks  at  their  sides,  slowly  walking  along, 
and  admiring  the  scenery.  They  were  gentlemanly,  and  appeared 
much  pleased  to  meet  an  American.  They  nearly  always  took 
me  for  an  Englishman,  and  treated  me  as  such  until  I  informed 
them  otherwise,  when  they  at  once  became  sociable  and  commu- 
nicative. One  of  the  party  usually  spoke  English,  and  did  the 
conversational  part  in  that  language  at  hotels  and  in  company, 
while  the  others  occasionally  put  in  a  word  or  listened  to  what 
was  said.  Several  of  those  whom  I  met  were  students  from 
Berlin  and  Heidelberg,  passing  the  summer  vacation  in  England, 
and  all  of  them  were  sociable,  intelligent,  and  friendly. 

From  Lake  Windermere  to  the  head  of  Coniston  Water,  there 
is  a  broken  country,  greatly  diversified,  which  presents  some 
splendid  prospects.  Soon  after  leaving  the  village,  the  tall  peaks 
of  Langdale  Pikes  rise  upon  the  sight,  and  then  follow  Wether- 
lamb  and  Coniston  Old  Man,  one  of  the  tallest  peaks  in  England. 
The  village  of  Hawkshead  is  on  the  route,  and  is  remarkable 
for  being  the  place  at  which  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  and  others 
of  equal  distinction,  received  the  rudiments  of  their  education. 
It  is  a  small,  straggling  hamlet,  in  a  valley,  between  the  hills 
which  line  the  shores  of  Windermere  and  Coniston  lakes,  and 
never  would  receive  a  visit,  were  it  not  for  its  favorable  and 
romantic  location.  Coniston  Water  is  a  much  more  pleasing  and 
secluded  lake,  though  smaller  than  Windermere.  Tall  mount- 
ains rise  around  it,  and  the  village  of  the  same  name,  at  its 
northern   extremity,  is  in  every  respect   handsome.      My  ride 

through  this  part  of  the  country  was  agreeable,  and  as  the  driver 

14* 


162  THE  FOOTPATU  AND  niGHWAY  J 

was  an  admirer  of  nature,  and  well  acquainted  with  the  beauties 
of  the  route,  the  time  was  passed  profitably  and  satisfactorily. 
We  entered  the  town  of  Broughton,  and  after  looking  at  its 
attractions,  I  took  my  departure  for  Furness  Abbey,  one  of  those 
ancient  ruins  so  numerous  in  England,  which  owe  their  origin  to 
the  monks  of  old.  It  is  situate  in  a  secluded  valley  called  the 
Glen  of  Deadly  Nightshade,  from  the  quantity  of  that  plant 
which  grows  there,  and  its  extensive  walls  bear  ample  testimony 
to  its  former  greatness.  One  of  the  gates  of  the  outer  wall  still 
remains  entire,  and  the  great  east  window  rises  to  the  height  of 
fifty-four  feet,  while  the  towers  and  walls  around  add  grandeur 
to  the  majestic  pile. — Like  all  the  abbeys,  it  is  in  the  Gothic 
style  of  architecture,  and  the  ivy,  as  it  twines  around  and  through 
the  arches  and  windows,  gives  ornament  to  the  ruin.  At  present, 
there  is  a  hotel  close  to  it,  where  tourists  are  accommodated,  and 
the  walks  in  the  grounds  have  been  improved  and  restored  so 
as  to  afibrd  pleasant  rambles  to  those  who  love  to  stroll  through 
the  retreats  once  sacred  to  the  eremite  and  recluse.  From  Fur- 
ness Abbey  to  Morecambe  Bay  is  but  a  short  distance,  and 
thence  passengers  are  carried  by  steamboat  to  Fleetwood,  a  dis- 
tance of  sixteen  miles  or  more.  Near  Piel  (the  railway  terminus 
from  the  monastery)  is  an  island,  on  which  are  the  remains  of  a 
castle  of  considerable  extent,  but  now  useless  and  deserted,  stand- 
ing a  lonely  monument  of  decayed  power  and  greatness  in  that 
section  of  Great  Britain.  I  passed  through  Preston  and  the  old 
town  of  Wigan,  to  Liverpool,  regretting  my  inability  to  complete 
the  entire  circuit  of  the  English  lakes,  but  content  with  the  beauty 
of  those  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  visit. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  168 


CHAPTEH    XIV. 

GLASGOW — ITS  APPEARANCE — CATHEDRAL  AND  UNIVERSITY. 

The  fogs  which  occur  on  the  English  coast  prevent  the  traveller 
by  sea  from  obtaining  good  views  of  the  shore,  and  obscure 
the  land  during  more  than  half  the  time.  In  a  trip  by  steamer 
from  Liverpool  to  the  Clyde,  I  was  deprived  of  the  coast 
scenery  in  consequence  of  the  hazy  weather,  and  although 
the  vessel  ran  tolerably  near  the  shore,  no  part  of  it  was  visible. 
After  being  at  sea  all  night,  we  neared  Scotland,  and  at  early 
dawn  I  beheld  for  the  first  time 

"  Tlie  land  of  brown  heath  and  shaggy  wood," 

in  the  shape  of  Ailsa  Craig,  a  bold  conical  rock  which  rises  from 
the  ocean  off  the  Ayrshire  coast.  The  Frith  of  Clyde  is  wide 
and  deep,  being  an  arm  of  the  sea  extending  inland  a  consider- 
able distance — its  northern  shores  lined  with  high  hills,  while 
away  in  the  blue  distance  loom  up  the  softened  outlines  of  the 
Scottish  mountains.  The  Isle  of  Arran  was  soon  passed,  after 
Ailsa  Craig,  and  then  rose  to  view  the  Castle  and  Kock  of  Dum- 
barton. The  city  of  Greenock  and  other  places  on  the  shore 
commanded  our  attention,  but  I  saw  nothing  particularly  worthy 
of  note,  except  the  walls  of  Newark  Castle,  until  near  the  termi- 
nus of  the  canal  which  connects  the  Clyde  and  Forth,  at  which 
point  rise  the  ruins  of  Dunglass  Castle,  in  which  is  a  plain  monu- 
ment of  some  twenty  feet  in  height  to  the  memory  of  Henry 
Bell,  the  first  successful  steam  navigator  of  the  Clyde.  The  walls 
of  the  castle  are  overgrown  with  ivy,  and  as  the  old  pile  stands 
upon  a  small  promontory,  it  presents  a  pretty  scene. 

The  river  grows  very  narrow  as  the  traveller  approaches  the 
city  after  leaving  Greenock,  and  the  channel  is  traceable  by  a 
number  of  round  stone  towers,  about  sixteen  feet  high,  placed 


1G4  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  nranwAY; 

at  regular  distances  on  both  sides  of  the  stream  nearly  up  to 
Glasgow.  Each  pyramid  is  surmounted  by  a  wooden  cross,  and 
the  whole  number  have  a  fine  appearance  when  seen  in  perspec- 
tive by  one  looking  either  up  or  down  the  river.  The  Clyde  is 
not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  wide  for  four  or  five  miles  be- 
low the  city,  and  is  extremely  diflBcult  of  navigation.  Glasgow 
lies  on  both  sides  of  the  stream,  and  presents  a  beautiful  pros- 
pect when  approached  by  the  river.  The  harbor  is  admirable, 
being  wide  and  convenient,  and  walled  on  either  side.  It  was 
crowded  with  shipping  as  we  entered,  and  one  particular  vessel  of 
splendid  form,  with  tall  tapering  spars,  was  the  subject  of  much 
conversation  among  our  passengers.  The  English  tourists  on 
board  were  lauding  her  model,  and  boasting  that  she  was  equal 
to  any  clipper  ever  built  in  Yankee-land,  taking  for  granted  she 
was  British;  -when  a  man  was  seen  busy  at  the  color  halyards  of 
the  stranger,  and  in  an  instant  the  starry  flag  of  the  great  Re- 
public rose  beautifully  to  the  mast-head  of  the  saucy  craft,  and  a 
murmur  of  delight  ran  along  our  decks.  I  felt  considerable  na- 
tional pride  at  the  incident.  As  we  neared  the  ship,  we  read  on 
her  stern,  with  some  surprise,  the  words  "Liberty — New 
York.'' 

It  was  Sunday  when  we  landed,  and  quiet  reigned  in  the  town. 
A  young  man  from  the  Province  of  New  Brunswick  and  myself 
took  a  stroll  along  the  Green  early  in  the  afternoon,  where  we 
saw  numbers  of  men  and  women  lying  on  the  grass,  barefooted 
and  indifferently  clad.  The  women  wore  a  shawl  over  the  head, 
and  the  men,  generally,  the  old-fashioned  Scotch  cap.  At  sevcnil 
places  stands  were  erected,  from  which  preachers  were  addressing 
collections  of  people,  a  common  thing  in  Scotland  of  a  Sunday, 
as  we  afterwards  learned.  The  men  were  city  missionaries,  and 
staying  at  home  trying  to  convert  tho  heathens  there,  instead  of 
going  abroad  to  preach  to  those  less  savage. 

The  Green  is  an  inclosure  on  tho  northern  shore  of  tho  river, 
within  whoso  limits  there  is  a  drive  twelve  miles  in  extent.  The 
ground  is  in  a  pleasant  location,  and  must  become  a  grand  park 
at  some  future  period ;  but  it  never  will  be  fashionable  so  long  as 
crowds  of  ragged  men  and  women  are  permitted  to  roll  and  wal- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  165 

low  together  on  tbe  grass  in  broad  daylight.  There  is  a  fine 
monument  to  Nelson  in  the  space,  one  hundred  and  forty-three 
feet  high,  said  to  be  a  copy  of  Trajan's  Pillar  at  Rome. 

The  streets  at  the  west  end  of  Glasgow  are  handsome,  and  far 
more  attractive  than  those  of  London.  The  houses  are  built  of  an 
ash-colored  sandstone,  which  is  easily  worked,  and  as  it  does  not 
readily  absorb  the  smoke  of  the  bituminous  coal,  it  keeps  clean 
for  a  considerable  time.  Rows  of  buildings  and  whole  streets 
are  constructed  of  it.  Argyle,  Buchanan,  and  Queen  Streets  are 
the  principal  thoroughfares,  and  they  are  lined  with  handsome 
shops,  dwellings,  and  public  edifices,  nearly  all  of  which  are  of 
the  stone  alluded  to.  The  Exchange  and  some  of  the  banks  are 
solid,  imposing  structures.  The  residences  at  the  west  end  are 
the  finest  erections,  and  command  especial  notice.  They  excel, 
in  many  cases,  the  much  extolled  palaces  of  the  fashionable  quar- 
ter of  London,  and  are  both  pretty  and  clean  externally. 

The  city  lies  on  very  irregular  ground,  and  forcibly  reminds 
the  American  of  Baltimore  in  some  particulars;  a  place  it  very 
much  resembles,  both  in  the  number  of  its  hills  and  the  variety 
of  its  monuments. 

In  St.  George's  Square,  there  is  a  fluted  Doric  column  to  the 
memory  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  eighty  feet  high;  and  pedestrian 
statues  to  Sir  John  Moore,  and  Watt,  the  improver  of  the  steam- 
engine  ;  while  in  front  of  the  Exchange  is  a  bronze  equestrian 
image  of  Wellington,  and  in  the  Irongate,  at  the  Market  Cross, 
one  of  William  of  Orange.  The  old  part  of  the  city  is  dull 
and  singular.  The  streets  are  narrow,  the  houses  high.  They 
are  mostly  inhabited  by  the  poor,  and  built  in  a  style  of 
architecture  by  no  means  fascinating.  The  new  streets  are 
wide,  straight,  and  clean.  They  cross  each  other  at  right  angles, 
and  are  well  paved  and  lighted.  The  Bromelaw  fronts  on  the 
Clyde,  and  is  very  wide,  affording  a  fine  view  the  entire  length  of 
the  city,  looking  down  stream  from  the  bridge.  It  is  a  noble 
avenue,  not  unlike  the  Levee  at  New  Orleans  in  some  respects, 
and  at  times  almost  as  much  crowded.  The  bridge  across  the 
river  is  not  so  large,  but  in  every  way  as  strongly  built  as  Lon- 
don Bridge.     The  traveller  who  has  visited  the  English  cities 


166  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIOnWAT; 

before  going  to  Glasgow  forms  a  favorable  opinion  of  the  Scottish 
commercial  capital,  and  sees  less  that  is  objectionable  in  its  streets 
than  will  meet  his  gaze  in  the  majority  of  the  seaports  of  England. 

The  inhabitants  are  friendly  and  intelligent,  but  cautious  and 
distrustful.  They  are  active  and  industrious,  and  keep  their 
streets  tolerably  free  from  beggars,  so  much  so  as  to  cause  the 
stranger  who  has  been  in  England  to  notice  the  fact. 

Near  the  city,  on  a  mount  once  a  retreat  of  the  Druids,  is  a 
modern  burial-place  called  the  Necropolis,  which  contains  many 
tombs.  The  land  is  high,  rugged,  and  commanding;  and  it 
affords  a  fine  prospect  of  the  surrounding  country.  On  the 
very  summit  stands  a  towering  monument  to  John  Knox, 
the  Reformer,  on  the  top  of  which  is  a  fine  statue  of  the  stem 
Presbyterian  holding  a  Bible  in  one  hand,  and  apparently  look- 
ing down  upon  his  native  city  with  an  ever  watchful  eye.  The 
grounds  are  tastefully  laid  out,  and  many  of  the  tombs  are  chaste 
and  elegant.  One  to  Motherwell,  the  poet,  is  particularly  good 
on  account  of  the  fine  bust  of  the  bard  it  contains.  I  noticed 
much  affectation  of  grief  in  the  forms  and  epitaphs  of  some  of  the 
tombs,  and  one  or  two  of  them  were  overstrained  attempts  at 
originality  and  eccentricity  deserving  rebuke.  As  we  were  com- 
ing out  of  the  ground,  a  man  in  the  costume  of  a  laborer  was 
applying  for  admittance,  but  was  not  allowed  to  enter,  "  because," 
said  the  gatekeeper,  "you  are  not  dressed  well  enough."  They 
don't  bury  poor  people  in  that  graveyard,  thought  I. 

Immediately  below  the  Necropolis,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
Molindinar  Burn,  located  on  high  ground,  stands  the  ancient 
Cathedral  of  Glasgow,  one  of  the  splendid  structures  of  the 
Catholics,  erected  as  early  as  1133.  It  lies  directly  in  front  of 
the  statue  of  the  great  Reformer,  and  makes,  when  viewed  from 
the  eminence,  a  fine  foreground  to  the  splendid  prospect  below. 
The  crypt  is  a  noble  work;  and  the  roof  considered  by  competent 
judges  one  of  the  best  specimens  of  Gothic  groining  and  ma.sonry 
extant.  It  is  within  it  that  Sir  "Walter  Scott  laid  one  of  the 
finest  scenes  in  "  Rob  Roy,"  and  being  desirous  \o  learn  the  precise 
place,  I  made  inquiry  of  the  old  sexton.  He  grew  eloquent  at 
once,  and  replied  :  ••'  Ycr  standin*  on  it  noo,  mon.    That's  just  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  Or  AN  AMERICAN.  167 

spot,  and  there  is  the  column  against  which  the  pulpit  was  raised 
in  which  the  minister  was  preaching.  Francis  Osbaldistone 
leaned  against  this  shaft,  and  Andrew  Fairservice,  ye  ken  him  ? 
stood  alang-side  o'  Francis,  and  as  he  was  learned  in  the  true 
doctrines  o'  the  kirk,  listened  whether  the  preacher  said  onything 
contrary  to  John  Knox's  views.  While  they  were  standin'  there, 
Rob  Roy  cam'  in  by  that  door,  and,  stealing  stealthily  behind 
Francis,  touched  his  shoulder,  and  whispered  him  that  Rashleigh 
was  in  town  to  assassinate  him.  Ye  knaw  the  rest.  Ah !  yes, 
that's  just  the  vary  place ;  but  there  are  nae  many  persons  ask  me 
aboot  it.  Ye  maun  hae  read  much  o'  Sir  Walter's  writing,  or 
I'm  mista'en." 

I  told  him  that  my  reading  was  not  extensive,  but  what  it  was 
I  remembered,  and  asked  him  for  the  great  column  to  which  the 
novelist  makes  allusion.  ^^ There,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  glo- 
rious supporter  of  the  gloomy  crypt.  "  That's  it,  an'  it's  a'  solid 
stone  and  mortar ;  and  there  is  the  main  arch ;  eight  different 
arches  spring  from  that,  and  it's  considered  by  architects  the  finest 
piece  o'  masonry  in  Scotland.  When  her  Majesty  was  here, 
she  asked  aboot  it,  and  stood  just  where  ye  are  now  when  I 
showed  it  her.'^  The  old  fellow  praised  the  queen,  and,  in  his 
laudations  of  her,  forgot  the  splendid  work.  It  is  massive  and 
wonderful,  convincing  the  modern  how  superior  the  ancients  were 
in  architecture. 

Until  within  a  few  years,  the  building  was  gradually  falling  to 
decay,  and  the  crypt  was  scarcely  ever  visited  in  consequence  of 
the  dampness  of  the  department,  and  the  faint  light  which  entered 
through  the  choked-up  windows.  The  government  sent  an  archi- 
tect down  from  London  to  put  it  in  repair  and  restore  it  as  far  as 
possible ;  which  work  was  admirably  done,  and  the  old  pile  is  now 
clean  and  well  lighted,  affording  the  traveller  an  opportunity  of 
examining  it  thoroughly. 

On  the  wall  of  the  north  porch  is  a  slab  of  marble  erected  to 
the  memory  of  nine  persons  named,  who,  according  to  the  inscrip- 
tion, "  suffered  at  the  Cross  of  Glasgow  for  their  testimony  to  the 
covenants  and  works  of  reformation,  because  they  durst  not  own 
the  authority  of  the  then  tyrants  destroying  the  same,  betwixt 


168  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIOnWAT  ; 

1666  and  1688."  Some  verses  of  indiflferent  merit  follow,  and 
though  the  prose  record  is  badly  written,  it  evidently  alludes  to 
the  murders  perpetrated  during  the  viceroy alty  of  James  the 
Second  in  Scotland  when  Duke  of  York,  and  after,  while  he 
sat  on  the  throne  of  Great  Britain  as  king. 

The  famous  university  is  a  sombre,  heavy  Gothic  building,  in 
a  gloomy  part  of  the  olden  city,  and  has  no  attractions  beyond  its 
age  and  the  celebrated  names  connected  with  it.  The  principal 
room  is  a  lofty  apartment,  but  slightly  furnished,  and  now  used 
as  a  reading-room  by  the  faculty.  The  grounds  are  large,  but 
not  in  good  order,  although  they  were  then  undergoing  consider- 
able improvement,  and  in  a  few  years  will  be  a  splendid  pro- 
menade. At  the  eastern  extremity,  on  the  side  of  the  hill  under 
a  row  of  thorns,  is  the  scene  of  the  encounter  between  Rashleigh 
and  Francis  Osbaldistone,  so  graphically  described  by  Scott  in 
"Rob  Roy."  An  old  gardener  conducted  me  to  the  spot.  "But/' 
said  he,  "the  place  is  changed  since  Sir  Walter's  day."  And 
truly  it  is.  The  Molindinar  Burn  is  now  arched  over,  and  flows 
along  under  a  covering  of  bricks  and  mortar,  no  longer  forming 
the  main  feature  in  the  landscape,  nor  adding  to  the  beauties  of 
the  grounds. 

All  old  cities  have  something  historical  to  claim  attention,  and 
those  places  mentioned  in  the  preceding  paragraphs  are  the  princi- 
pal ones  in  Glasgow.  A  few  days  did  not  allow  much  opportunity 
for  learning  the  habits  of  the  people,  or  their  social  condition.  I 
was  content  with  a  hasty  glance  at  the  city,  and  not  disposed  to 
search  out  places  of  folly  or  wretchedness.  Mine  host  was  a  true 
Scot,  and  his  house  abominably  dirty,  and  by  no  means  deserving 
public  patronage,  although  he  thought  otherwise. 

Before  leaving,  I  went  into  a  bookstore,  on  one  of  the  principal 
streets,  to  purchase  a  copy  of  Tannahill's  Poems,  when,  observ- 
ing the  volume  handed  me  was  printed  in  Belfast,  I  asked 
whether  it  was  perfect.  "  That  I  can't  tell,"  replied  the  shop- 
man; "but  suspect  not,  as  the  only  things  really  perfect  we  can 
get  from  Ireland  are — beggars !"  It  appears  that  Pat  and  Sawney 
don't  love  each  other  violently. 


OR;  WANDERINGS  Or  AN  AMERICAN.  169 


CHAPTER   XV. 

AYR — BURNS'S   COTTAGE — KIRK   ALLOWAF,    AND    "THE   BANKS 
O'  DOON." 

The  lands  made  celebrated  by  Burns  are  now  included  in  the 
European  tour,  and  he  who  does  not  visit  them  is  considered  de- 
ficient in  taste.  I  went  to  Ayr,  through  the  towns  of  Paisley, 
Irvin,  and  Troon,  and  passed  several  hours  in  peaceful  reflection 
on  the  classic  "banks  o'  bonnie  Doon.'^  The  town  of  Ayr  lies 
on  both  sides  of  the  river  from  which  it  takes  its  name,  and  within 
sight  of  the  ocean.  The  "  auld  brig"  is  decidedly  and  undenia- 
bly ugly,  with  a  narrow  thoroughfare  for  foot-passengers  only. 
The  main  arch  is  sprung,  leading  the  observer  to  think  the  boast 
made  by  the  structure,  in  the  poem, 

"I'll  be  a  brig  when  you're  a  shapeless  cairn!" 

will  most  signally  fail  of  fulfilment,  as  the  new  viaduct  is  both 
solid  and  in  good  condition. 

Ayr  is  outrageously  filthy,  very  badly  paved,  has  crooked 
streets,  considerable  shipping,  an  old  castle,  once  famous,  but  now 
a  soldier's  barracks.  There  is  a  fine  statue  of  Wallace,  the  great 
patriot  of  Scotland,  in  a  niche  in  front  of  the  Town  Hall,  sculp- 
tured by  Thom,  the  famous  self-taught  artist  of  Ayrshire ;  and  it 
redeems  the  town  from  contempt. 

The  day  was  delightfully  clear,  and  favorable  to  pedestrianism. 
I  walked  out  to  the  birthplace  of  the  poet,  along  a  pleasant  road, 
lined,  the  greater  part  of  the  distance,  with  hedges  of  thorns.  On 
some  parts  of  the  route  there  were  splendid  fields  waving  with 
yellow  grain,  ready  for  the  sickle,  and  old  and  young  were  busy 
gathering  the  bountiful  harvest. 

At  a  turn  in  the  road,  about  two  miles  from  the  town,  I  sud- 
denly came  upon  a  cottage,  over  the  door  of  which  there  is  a  sign- 
15 


170 

setting  forth  that  within  its  walls  Robert  Burns,  the  great  bard 
of  Scotland,  was  born.  I  entered  the  **clay  biggin,"  and  was 
shown  into  the  room  in  which  the  poet  first  drew  breath,  and 
passed  a  half  hour  under  the  straw-thatched  roof,  where  pilgrims 
from  every  section  of  the  world  have  been  to  pay  homage  to  the 
genius  of  the  Ayrshire  ploughman.  The  walls  are  adorned  with 
some  good  engravings,  illustrative  of  different  works  of  Burns,  and 
a  likeness  of  the  bard.  One  of  the  pictures  there,  at  my  visit, 
was  a  scene  from  the  "Cotter's  Saturday  Night,"  wherein  the 
patriarchal  sire  is  represented  reading  from  the  "  big  ha'  Bible" 
before  offering  up  a  petition  to  the  throne  of  mercy.  The  very 
room  in  which  I  sat  suggested  the  scene  to  the  bard,  and  there  he 
often  witnessed  the  incident  he  has  so  beautifully  described  in 
never-dying  verse.  The  frame  around  the  portrait  of  the  poet  is  cut 
and  carved  full  of  the  names  of  visitors,  who  have  in  this  way 
sought  celebrity.  The  book  for  the  signatures  of  pilgrims  wad" 
handed  to  me,  and  on  looking  over  its  pages  I  noticed  the  name 
of  "A.  Tennyson,"  written  in  a  hand  as  delicate  as  the  breathings 
of  his  own  muse.  The  simple  line  had  far  more  real  admiration 
for  the  bard  in  it,  in  my  eyes,  than  the  many  other  names  on 
the  page,  to  which  were  attached  stupid  verses  and  senseless  prose. 
The  ruins  of  Alloway  Kirk  are  a  short  distance  from  the  cot- 
tage, and  near  the  monument  of  the  bard  on  the  "  banks  and  braes 
o'  bonnie  Boon."  The  old  bell  still  hangs  in  the  solitary  belfry, 
and  swings  when  "  chill  November's  surly  blasts"  hurry  furiously 
through  the  roofless  and  lonely  house  of  prayer.  All  the  wood- 
work of  the  edifice  has  been  carried  off  ns  mementos,  and  the 
burial-ground  is  a  mausoleum  for  the  dead,  many  of  whom  have 
been  brought  miles  to  be  buried  there.  Tlie  tomb  of  Burns's 
father  stands  immediately  in  front  of  the  church,  and  around  are 
the  graves  of  many  who  made  a  last  request  to  bo  interred  in  the 
ground  made  celebrated  by  the  genius  of  the  peasant  poet.  The 
monument  of  the  bard  is  near  the  church,  and  between  it  and 
the  "  Auld  brig  o'  Boon,"  on  which  Tarn's  mare  Meggy  met  with 
her  misfortune.  The  grounds  around  tlio  tribute  are  tastefully 
laid  out,  and  rich  in  flowers.  The  vestibule  of  the  temple  con- 
tains a  marble  bust  of  the  bard,  which,  for  beauty,  exceeds  any 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  171 

head  T  ever  saw  represented  in  sculpture.  It  is  more  than  beau- 
tiful— it  is  glorious;  and  if  it  be  a  faithful  likeness  of  Burns, 
then  was  he  one  of  the  noblest  of  men  in  form  as  well  as  mind. 
There  is  the  high  and  comprehensive  forehead — the  bare  temples, 
so  strongly  indicative  of  poetic  excellence — and  the  massive  brow 
and  well  developed  organs,  which  so  clearly  indicate  the  giant 
intellect.  It  is  the  very  soul  of  the  poet,  in  inspiring  thought, 
fixed  in  triumphant  marble,  as  though  the  artist  had  caught  the 
expression  of  the  deepest  and  purest  inspiration  as  it  lit  up  the  face 
of  the  poet,  and  stamped  it  forever  on  imperishable  Parian  stone. 
The  appearance  is  divine,  and  the  pallid  marble  almost  breathes 
thought.  The  waving  locks  fall  in  thick  clusters  over  the  ample 
forehead,  and  the  rich  drapery  rests  in  soft  folds  on  the  breast 
and  shoulders  of  the  figure.  In  a  case  in  the  same  department 
are  the  Bibles  presented  by  Burns  to  "Highland  Mary,^'  and 
several  other  relief  of  the  bard. 

I  plucked  a  fragrant  rose  from  the  garden,  and  walked  down  to 
the  crystal,  gurgling  Doon,  immediately  along-side  the  ancient 
bridge,  which  with  one  high  and  splendid  arch  spans  the  famous 
stream.  The  scenery  is  pretty,  and  the  thick  umbrageous  wood 
on  the  banks,  and  the  twining  ivy  which  clings  to  the  ''keystone 
of  the  brig,''  and  hangs  in  rich  festoons  over  the  walls,  give  a 
double  charm  to  the  secluded  spot.  I  there  met  an  intelligent, 
gentlemanly  young  Scotchman,  and  a  beautiful  girl,  who,  I 
strongly  suspected,  was  not  his  sister.  They  entered  into  conver- 
sation with  me,  and  became  quite  sociable.  He  was  on  the  eve  of 
departure  for  India,  and  had  come,  perhaps  for  the  last  time,  to 
pass  a  few  hours  on  ''the  banks  and  braes  of  bonnie  Doon"  before 
leaving  his  affianced  bride  and  native  land  for  the  burning  sands 
and  sultry  suns  of  a  distant  tropical  clime.  We  wandered  along 
the  banks  of  the  stream,  and  passed  several  hours  agreeably 
together,  after  which  I  returned  to  Ayr,  taking  with  me  some 
ivy  leaves,  and  my  stolen  rose  as  mementos  of  a  pleasant  visit  to 
one  of  the  places  made  world-renowned  by  genius ! 


172  TUE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGnWAT; 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  SCOTTISH  LAKES — AN  INCIDENT  ON  LOCH  KETURIN. 

From  Glasgow  down  the  Clyde,  past  Kelvin  Grove  and  Dum- 
barton's bonny  dell,  to  where  the  frowning  rocks  overshade  the 
broad  river,  and  then  on,  up  the  banks  of  Leven  Water,  and  past 
the  monument  to  Smollett  which  rises  on  its  shores,  to  Balloch  at 
the  foot  of  Loch  Lomond,  occupies  but  little  time,  and  affords  a 
pleasant  treat  to  him  who  takes  delight  in  fine  scenery.  A  small 
steamer  traverses  the  inky  waters  of  the  "queen  of  Scottish  lakes," 
and  takes  its  passengers  under  the  shadows  ^  the  rugged  hills 
which  line  the  shores,  thereby  giving  the  tourist  the  advantage  of 
viewing  both  sides  of  the  Loch  in  ascending  and  descending.  I 
embarked  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  mists  were  slowly  roll- 
ing up  the  mountain  sides  before  the  rays  of  the  sun,  which  pene- 
trated their  vapory  forms,  and  soon  was  launched  upon  Loch 
Lomond's  surface.  The  lake  is  about  twenty-three  miles  long  and 
live  in  width  at  the  widest  place,  and  studded  at  the  southern  end 
with  a  number  of  small  islands,  which  sit  in  its  black  waters  like 
emerald  gems  in  a  sea  df  ebony.  The  hills  which  line  the  shores 
are  mostly  of  a  pyramidal  form,  and  resemble  the  highlands  of 
the  Hudson  very  much ;  in  fact,  the  scenery  on  the  North  llivcr  is 
equal,  if  not  superior,  to  the  wildest  on  Loch  Lomond,  including 
the  tall  peaks  of  Ben  Voirlich,  Ben  Duchray,  Ben  Arthur,  and 
the  world-famed  and  cloud-crowned  Ben  Lomond.  At  the  north- 
ern extremity  of  the  lake  the  waters  become  deep  and  narrow, 
and  the  huge  hills  rise  to  the  very  clouds  on  either  shore.  Ben 
Lomond  does  not,  however,  present  such  a  bold  front  as  one  would 
suppose,  and  its  summit  is  too  flat  and  rounded  to  impress  the 
mind  with  a  sense  of  awe,  or  even  intense  admiration.  The  mists 
shut  out  tho  distant  hills  at  the  north,  but  south,  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  see,  the  view  was  unbroken,  and  the  bright  rays  of  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  173 

sun  lit  up  the  mountain  tops  and  tipped  the  trees  with  gold.  I 
met  a  gentleman  from  Philadelphia  on  the  boat,  and  he  and  I 
enjoyed  the  scenery  together,  until  we  arrived  at  Inversnaid  land- 
ing, at  which  point  I  parted  with  my  townsman,  and  set  out  on  a 
solitary  walk  to  Loch  Keturin,  over  the  bleak  and  desolate  country 
which  lies  between  the  two  lakes.  Ben  Lomond  was  hard  to  climb, 
and  after  ascending  its-^  sides  for  some  distance,  the  vapors  en- 
veloped me  in  their  cold  embrace,  and  prudence  dictated  a  retreat, 
which  was  soon  accomplished.  To  have  reached  the  mountain's 
summit  was  possible,  but  foolish,  as  the  rain  began  to  fall  and  the 
top  was  clothed  in  clouds,  while  below  the  landscape  was  obscured 
from  sight  by  a  thick  haze.  I  therefore  trudged  on  alone  along 
a  dreary  road  over  the  heath,  so  often  of  yore  trod  by  Rob  Koy 
and  the  warriors  of  his  clan,  and  enjoyed  in  solitude  the  scenery 
of  the  desolate  landscape.  At  one  point  on  the  road,  I  crossed  an 
old  stone  bridge  which  spans  a  roaring  mountain  hum,  and  ascend- 
ing a  hill  came  to  the  ruins  of  Inversnaid  fort,  a  military  post, 
erected  by  the  government,  in  1713,  to  protect  the  district  against 
the  inroads  of  the  clan  MacGregor.  The  lonely  fortress  is  now 
deserted,  and  both  the  soldiers  who  occupied  it,  and  the  mountain 
chieftains  whose  vengeance  it  often  roused,  have  passed  to  another 
world.  I  sat  down  within  its  walls,  and  after  a  short  rest  rambled 
around  the  remains,  near  which  I  discovered  several  tombstones ; 
but  the  inscriptions  were  so  much  defaced  that  it  would  have 
puzzled  Old  Mortality  himself  to  clearly  decipher  them.  All 
that  I  could  learn  was  that  they  covered  the  graves  of  some 
soldiers  of  the  Buffs  who  died  while  on  duty  at  the  fort  in  175^0. 
The  fortress  was  once  the  residence  of  General  Wolfe,  and  it  is 
stated  that  he  received  the  rudiments  of  his  military  education 
within  its  limits,  in  the  days  of  border  warfare. 

I  stopped  in  my  walk  at  the  cottage  of  Rob  Roy,  and  convers- 
ed a  short  time  with  several  Highlanders  in  that  smoked  and 
straw-thatched  abode.  They  live  better  than  the  Irish  peasantry 
who  inhabit  the  country  in  the  vicinity  of  Cork,  and  are  blest 
with  a  degree  of  education  above  what  would  be  expected  from 
their  isolated  condition.  The  hut  is  lighted  with  windows;  and 
bedding  and  household  furniture  afford  the  occupants  comfort  and 

15* 


174  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  UIGnWAY; 

comparative  ease.  The  men  were  a  rougli-looking  set,  and  their 
appearance  did  not  lead  me  to  think  they  would  be  very  desir- 
able companions  in  a  forest  of  a  dark  night,  although  I  may  be 
mistaken  in  my  estimate  of  their  characters.  The  women,  with 
one  exception,  were  anything  but  handsome ;  and  she  who  was 
the  exception  was  as  pretty  a  little  lassie  as  ever  melted  the 
obdurate  heart  of  a  crusty  bachelor.  The  hospitality  of  the  wo- 
men was  tendered  me  in  a  glass  of  ^'mountain  dew,"  and  as  the 
morning  was  damp  and  chilly,  I  found  the  liquid  agreeable  and 
refreshing. 

About  midway  betwen  the  two  large  bodies  of  water,  I  passed 
a  pretty  little  lake,  called  Loch  Arklet,  from  which  flows  a  crystal 
stream  which  falls  into  Loch  Lomond  at  Inversnaid,  and  forms  at 
that  place  a  beautiful  mountain  cascade,  of  considerable  height. 
The  dark  shadows  of  the  Highlands  cover  the  entire  surface  of 
the  valley,  and  the  huge  peak  of  Ben  Lomond  rises  like  a  wall  at 
its  western  extremity,  and  seemingly  shuts  out  all  communica- 
tion with  the  world  that  way,  while  to  the  east  the  waters  of 
Loch  Keturin  afford  an  outlet  from  the  secluded  glen.  I  reached 
that  lake  in  good  time,  and  met  a  party  of  persons  waiting  for 
the  steamer,  among  whom  was  a  young  Prussian,  a  professor, 
from  one  of  the  colleges  at  Magdeburg,  and  a  nobler-looking  man 
never  crossed  my  path.  He  was  tall  and  finely  formed ;  wore  a 
thick  mustache,  but  no  other  part  of  his  beard,  which  became 
him  wonderfully  well,  and  set  off"  one  of  the  handsomest  faces  in 
the  world.  We  were  foreigners,  and  a  mutual  feeling  of  friend- 
ship sprung  up  between  us  at  once,  which  improved  and  strength- 
ened while  we  continued  together.  Wo  embarked  upon  the  little 
steamer,  and  sailed  slowly  down  the  transparent  lake,  enjoying 
the  rich  scenery  of  its  shores.  The  tall  peaks  of  Benvcnuc  and 
Benean  arose  clear  and  distinct  to  view  aa  wo  approached  their 
giant  forms,  and  every  portion  of  the  country  became  familiar 
through  Scott's  graphic  descriptions,  from  the  rich  scenery  around 
the  fairy-like  Trossachs,  to  the  classic  island  of  "  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake."  Wo  took  up  our  quarters  at  the  hotel  for  the  night,  and, 
as  the  moon  was  in  its  full,  enjoyed  a  treat  not  often  shared  by 
the  visitor  to  Loch  Keturin.     As  soon  aa  the  twilight  faded  out, 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  175 

my  German  friend,  myself,  and  several  others  procured  a 
skiff,  and  shot  from  the  dark  shadows  of  Benvenue  on  to  the 
moon-lit  water.  There  we  were  in  all  our  glory,  and  a  young 
Highlander,  who  was  of  our  company,  could  restrain  his  enthu- 
siasm no  longer,  and  under  the  influence  of  the  time,  place,  and 
scene,  sang  in  glorious  tones  the  "  MacGregor's  Gathering."  It 
was  the  very  hour  and  spot  for  it,  and,  as  the  musical  strains  of 
his  voice  gave  sound  to  the  words — 

The  moon  's  on  the  lake,  and  the  mist 's  on  the  brae, 
And  the  clan  has  a  name  that  is  nameless  by  day : 

Then  gather,  gather,  gather,  Gregalich ! 

we  set  up  a  shout  in  chorus  to  his  song,  which  echoed  again  and 
again,  until  Benean  answered  to  Benvenue,  and  the  very  mists  on 
the  brae  quivered  in  the  sound,  as  though  they  once  more  were 
disturbed  by  the  cry  of  Clan  Alpine.  Ay !  it  was  inspiring, 
and  my  German  friend  took  as  much  delight  in  it  as  if  he  had 
been  a  Scot  bred  and  born.  The  young  Highlander  stood  in  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  with  his  plaid  over  his  shoulders,  and  with  pa- 
triotic enthusiasm,  heightened  by  our  applause,  finished  the  song. 
As  each  verse  was  completed,  we  made  the  air  tremble  with  our 
shouts,  and  at  the  following  stanza  the  whole  of  us  arose,  and 
sent  up  such  a  cry  as  almost  split  the  rocky  sides  of  Benvenue  : — 

If  they  rob  us  of  name,  and  pursue  us  with  beagles, 
Give  their  roofs  to  the  flame  and  their  flesh  to  the  eagles. 
Then  vengeance,  vengeance,  vengeance,  Gregalich ! 

The  Highlander  sang  the  last  line  as  if  he  meant  every  word 
of  it,  and  the  shrill  sound  of  his  voice  came  back  from  the  land 
through  our  wild  cheers,  like  the  sharp  cutting  of  a  two-edged 
sword. 

The  mists  began  to  gather  along  the  shores,  and,  after  proceed- 
ing up  the  lake  about  two  miles,  our  boatmen  turned  the  skiff 
homeward,  and  the  young  Scot  sang,  with  spirit  and  enthusiasm, 
the  wild  lyric  which  Sir  Walter  puts  in  the  mouths  of  Roderich 
Dhu's  retainers  while  sailing  down  the  very  lake  on  which  we 
were  gayly  moving.     It  was  appropriate  and  splendid  : — 


176  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

**  Row,  vassals,  row,  for  the  pride  of  the  liighlands, 
Stretch  to  your  oars  for  the  evergreen  pine  ; 
0 !  that  the  rosebud  that  graces  yon  islands 
Were  wreathed  in  a  garland  around  him  to  twine! 
0 !  that  some  seedling  gem 
Worthy  such  noble  stem 
Honored  and  blest  in  their  shadow  might  grow  ! 
Loud  should  Clan  Alpine,  then, 
Ring  from  the  deepmost  glen, 
Roderigh  Vich  Alpine,  dhu,  ho!  iero." 

The  oarsmen  stretched  cheerfully  to  their  work,  and  we  reached 
the  landing  at  a  seasonable  hour,  and  returned  to  the  hotel  highly 
pleased  with  our  moonlight  excursion  on  Loch  Keturin,  and  al- 
most unwilling  to  seek  the  embraces  of  the  drowsy  god. 

The  following  morning  was  beautifully  clear,  and  our  time  was 
spent  in  rowing  about  the  lake  or  in  walks  along  its  shores,  on 
the  land  made  poetic  ground  by  Scott.  The  mountains  are  cloth- 
ed almost  to  their  summits  with  wood,  and  the  valleys  are  beau- 
tiful retreats.  The  lover  of  poetry  is  familiar  with  the  poem  in 
which  the  landscape  is  described ;  and  it  would  be  folly  in  me  to 
transcribe  what  is  in  nearly  every  man's  recollection,  and  what 
has  become  trite  from  constant  repetition.  We  took  stage  in  the 
afternoon  for  Callendar,  and  rode  over  every  inch  of  ground 
traversed  by  Fitz  James  in  the  chase.  The  smaller  lakes  were 
soon  passed,  and  then  we  came  to  the  scene  of  encounter  between 
the  Gael  and  the  Saxon  !  The  whip  pointed  out  the  place  where 
Roderich  astonished  Fitz  James,  by  summoning  his  clan,  and 
dosed  us  to  the  full  with  line  after  line  of  the  poem.  Our  com- 
pany grew  merry,  and  a  flask  of  '^  mountain  dew"  circulated  free- 
ly among  us  as  we  approached  the  spot,  of  yore  the  gathering 
ground  of  Clan  Alpine.  Near  the  place  is  a  thick  wood,  said  by 
the  Highlanders  to  be  the  resort  of  the  river  demon,  who  delights 
to  forebode  and  witness  evil  on  the  spot.  Our  company  did  not, 
however,  meet  with  the  seer  of  destiny,  and  a  more  cheerful  set 
of  fellows  never  passed  through  the  "  wood  of  lamentation" 
than  on  that  occasion.  The  driver  looked  solemn,  and  called  in 
vain  to  us  to  respect  the  place.  Ilis  warning  was  useless;  the 
Scotch  fluid  was  exhilarating;  and  wo  had  the  consolation  of 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  177 

knowing  that  it  was  by  no  means  bad.  The  opposition  stage  was 
ahead,  and  on  dashed  our  horses  to  overtake  it,  which  was  done  in 
gallant  style  at  the  point  where  the  remains  of  a  Roman  fortifica- 
tion stand  as  a  monument  of  the  power  of  that  great  people,  and 
near  the  scene  of  combat  between  Fitz  James  and  Roderich 
Dhu.  We  stopped  at  the  village  of  Callendar,  where  my  Ger- 
man friend  parted  company  with  us,  and  pursued  his  way  to 
the  Highlands,  while  we  shortly  after  proceeded  on  to  Stirling. 
The  country,  as  we  receded  from  the  mountains,  became  highly 
cultivated,  and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  banks  of  the  rapid 
Teith,  fields  of  waving  grain  and  fine  parks  encircled  us.  We 
passed  the  town  of  Doune,  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  named,  and 
had  a  view  of  its  ruined  castle  as  we  crossed  a  splendid  bridge 
which  spans  the  river  a  few  yards  above  the  old  stronghold.  It 
is  square  in  form,  and  its  walls  are  eighty  feet  high  and  ten  thick. 
The  stream  is  a  rapid,  roaring  body  of  water,  and  flows  along-side 
the  fortress,  which  was  once  the  residence  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 
when  she  was  in  the  heyday  of  her  love  for  Darnley,  at  which 
period  she  and  her  husband  occupied  it  as  a  hunting-seat.  It  was 
built  by  Murdoch,  Duke  of  Albany,  who  was  afterwards  executed 
within  sight  of  it  on  a  hill  at  Stirling.  We  entered  that  old  city 
at  an  early  hour,  and  I  wended  my  way  through  narrow,  crooked, 
and  steep  streets  to  the  castle,  which  stands  on  a  hill  of  great 
height,  the  western  side  of  which  rises  almost  perpendicularly  from 
the  valley  of  Stirling.  The  castle  is  a  barracks  for  soldiers,  and 
heavy  guns  bristle  on  the  walls  as  formidably  as  of  old,  when 
border  warfare  and  intestine  commotions  made  it  necessary  to 
keep  it  in  repair  and  well  defended.  A  soldier  guided  me  through 
the  fortress,  and  pointed  out  the  various  fields  of  battle  in  the 
neighborhood,  twelve  of  which  are  to  be  seen  from  the  eminence. 
The  winding  Forth  runs  through  the  valley  to  the  north  of  the 
town,  and  countless  well-cultivated  fields  lie  in  the  splendid  plain 
below.  The  scene,  with  one  exception,  surpasses  all  I  ever  be- 
held, and  repays  a  man  doubly  over  for  the  trouble  of  ascending 
the  hill.  To  the  north,  the  Grampian  and  Ochil  Hills  bound  the 
view;  while  to  the  west  the  frowning  summits  of  Ben  Lomond, 
Ben  Nevis,  and  Benvenue  rise  to  the  skies  and  form  a  barrier  to 


178 

the  sight.  Toward  the  east,  the  eye  can  trace  the  horizon  resting 
on  the  German  Ocean,  and  the  turrets  and  walls  of  the  distant 
Castle  of  Edinburgh;  while  in  the  foreground  are  the  field  of 
Bannockburn  and  the  mountain-town  of  Stirling.  I  remained  for 
some  time  enjoying  the  prospect,  and  descended  in  time  to  visit 
the  Marathon  of  Scotland,  and  tread  its  hallowed  sod.  The  grain 
grows  luxuriantly  from  its  soil,  and  the  sickle  of  the  husbandman, 
instead  of  the  sword  of  the  warrior,  gathers  from  its  surface  at 
present  the  harvest  of  peace  and  plenty,  instead  of  that  of  tears 
and  death. 

The  old  church  of  Stirling  is  divided  into  two  places  of  wor- 
ship, in  one  of  which  James  the  Sixth  was  crowned,  when  but  an 
infant,  on  which  occasion  John  Knox  preached  the  sermon.  It 
was  once  a  Gray  friars  or  Franciscan  fane,  and  its  splendid 
Gothic  ornaments  look  too  rich  for  a  Presbyterian  house  of  prayer. 
Many  curious  scenes  have  been  witnessed  in  its  walls,  among 
which  was  that  of  the  Regent  Earl  of  Arran  abjuring  the  Catho- 
lic faith,  and  avowing  the  Protestant  doctrine,  which  he  subse- 
quently renounced. 

The  Castle  is  one  of  the  four  military  fortresses  which,  by  the 
articles  of  union  between  England  and  Scotland,  are  to  be  for- 
tified forever.  It  is  a  celebrated  place,  and  the  scene  of  the  mur- 
der of  Earl  Douglas  by  James  the  Second  of  Scotland.  Queen 
Mary  was  crowned  within  its  walls,  and  there  her  son  and  grand- 
son were  baptized.  It  has  been  the  place  of  execution  of  men  of 
distinction,  and  near  it  Murdoch,  Duke  of  Albany,  Duncan,  Earl 
of  Lennox,  his  father-in-law,  and  his  sons  were  beheaded  in  1424, 
within  sight  of  their  extensive  possessions,  and  their  Castle  of 
Doune. 

The  town  is  irregularly  built,  but  the  situation  is  beautiful  and 
commanding,  and  no  one  will  be  likely  to  visit  it  with  regret,  if 
he  goes  for  pleasure.  There  is  a  noted  bridge  over  the  Forth,  in 
the  valley  at  the  north-west  part  of  the  town,  which  is  quit«  old 
and  celebrated  in  history.  Wallace  defeated  the  English  near  it, 
and  Archbishop  Hamilton  was  hung  in  his  canonical  robes,  on  a 
scaffold  erected  on  it,  in  1571 — a  strange  way  the  jwople  of  those 
days  had  of  exhibiting  their  admiration  for  the  clergy  in  general, 
and  bishops  in  particular. 


179 


C  11  AFTER    XVII. 

Scotland's  capital. 

It  is  not  an  agreeable  thing  to  be  set  down  at  midnight  in  a 
city  where  one  has  no  acquaintance,  and  where  everything  is 
strange,  particularly  if  the  night  be  moonless  and  the  stars  dull. 
My  entrance  into  the  Scottish  capital  was  at  such  a  time  and 
under  such  a  sky,  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty  that  I  succeeded 
in  obtaining  comfortable  lodgings  for  the  balance  of  the  night  in 
the  modern  Athens.  The  railway  stations  are  in  a  hollow  be- 
tween the  old  and  new  towns,  and  the  finest  street  in  the  hilly 
city  faces  the  valley  on  one  side,  while  the  worst-looking  and 
tallest  buildings  face  it  on  the  other.  I  went  up  on  to  the  level 
ground  of  the  new  street,  and  before  me  arose  the  superb  Gothic 
monument  erected  by  the  inhabitants  of  Edinburgh  to  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott.  Its  elaborate  ornaments  and  groined  arches  were  lost 
in  shadow,  but  the  tall  and  delicate  structure  pointed  heaven- 
ward, and  its  graceful  outline  and  exquisite  form  won  my  admira- 
tion. It  was  too  late,  however,  to  pay  much  attention  to  it,  and 
I  was  too  weary  to  devote  my  time  to  that  purpose,  so  I  sought 
out  a  place  of  shelter,  and  after  a  good  night's  rest  and  pleasant 
dreams  awoke  to  garish  day  in  the  seven-hilled  city  of  the  north. 

Princes  Street  was  early  thronged  with  pedestrians,  and  the 
busy  tradesman  and  gaping  tourist  formed  a  part  of  its  motley 
crowd.  Here  passed  a  soldier  dressed  in  the  scarlet  uniform  of 
the  English  army,  there  a  tall  Highlander  in  the  ancient  costume 
of  his  clan,  while  amidst  the  moving  mass  flashed,  from  the  most 
tauntingly  cut  bonnets  in  the  world,  the  bright  eyes  of  the  Scot- 
tish lassies.  I  fell  into  the  human  current,  and  floated  uncon- 
sciously along  in  its  tide  until  under  the  clifi"s  of  Calton  Hill,  on 
the  summit  of  which  stand  monuments  to  Playfair,  Dugald  Stew- 
art, and  other  distinguished  Scotsmen,  and  a  tall,  ungainly,  tower- 


180  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

looking  abomination  called  Nelson's  monument.  I  ascended  to 
the  top  of  the  mount,  and  although  it  rises  beside  the  most  fash- 
ionable and  thronged  thoroughfare  in  the  town,  I  was  as  secluded 
and  solitary  as  if  I  had  been  in  a  deserted  city.  The  mementos 
and  cenotaphs  of  distinguished  men  were  around  me,  and  in  front 
arose  the  ruins  of  a  splendid  Grecian  temple,  originally  intended 
to  commemorate  the  heroes  who  fell  at  Waterloo,  but  for  want  of 
means  abandoned  to  the  mercy  of  the  winds  in  an  unfinished 
state,  and  now  its  classic  columns  bear  testimony  to  the  failure 
and  ambition  of  the  projectors.  The  design  is  that  of  the  Par- 
thenon at  Athens,  and  the  half  finished  structure  stands  in  solemn 
grandeur  on  the  eminence  as  an  evidence  at  once  of  the  taste  and 
the  meanness  of  the  citizens  of  Edinburgh.  The  view  from  this 
elevated  point  takes  in  the  whole  of  the  city,  with  the  towering 
clifi"  of  Arthur's  Seat  at  one  end,  and  the  old  castle  of  the  Scot- 
tish capital  at  the  other ;  while  seaward  appears  the  Frith  of  Forth 
and  the  German  Ocean,  and  northward  the  Ochils,  East  Lomond, 
and  distant  Grampian  hills.  The  west  is  bounded  by  the  High- 
lands which  encircle  the  lakes,  and  the  tall  peaks  of  Ben  Nevis 
and  Benvenue  are  to  be  seen  plainly  in  favorable  weather.  The 
high  houses  in  the  old  town,  which  rise  from  the  valley  between 
the  two  sections,  ascend  to  ten  stories  in  some  instances,  and  their 
unpoetic  appearance  detracts  greatly  from  the  beauty  of  the  city. 
Princes  Street  runs  immediately  westward  from  the  hill,  and  that 
broad  and  splendid  avenue  presents  a  prospect  of  human  activity 
and  architectural  beauty  not  often  beheld  elsewhere. 

The  Scott  monument  riseg  in  a'  fine  park  at  the  side  of  the  long 
thoroughfare,  and  beyond,  some  distance,  the  eye  rests  upon  an 
elegant  marble  edifice  called  the  lloyal  Institution,  over  the  en- 
trance to  which  is  a  colossal  statue  to  Queen  Victoria,  in  a  reclin- 
ing position,  holding  the  sceptre  in  her  hand.  As  the  sight  runs 
over  the  city,  other  objects  arrest  the  attention,  among  which  are 
the  lofty  spire  of  the  hall  in  which  the  General  Assembly  of  the 
Kirk  of  Scotland  holds  its  sessions,  and  the  monuments  to  Lord 
Melville  and  Robert  Burns.  The  town  and  port  of  Lcith  are 
visible,  and  the  country  for  miles  around,  so  that  the  eye  seldom 
tires  of  the  prospect.     I  descended  and  walked  to  the  Scott  memo- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  181 

rial,  the  grounds  around  which  were  opened  to  the  public  that 
day  for  the  first  time,  and  entered  the  splendid  edifice.  The  site 
is  badly  chosen,  and  destroys  much  of  the  imposing  beauty  of  the 
structure.  The  main  hall  of  the  temple  contains  a  faithfully  exe- 
cuted full-length  likeness  of  the  great  writer  in  marble,  with  his 
favorite  dog  at  his  side,  and  several  of  the  niches  in  more  elevated 
parts  of  the  structure  are  filled  with  statues  of  different  characters 
in  Sir  Walter's  works.  The  design  is  exquisite,  being  in  the 
florid  Gothic  style  of  architecture,  and  was  furnished  by  a  young 
man  entirely  unknown  to  fame  until  declared,  by  a  committee 
appointed  to  select  a  plan  for  the  monument,  the  successful  com- 
petitor. He  was  a  self-taught  architect,  and  studied  the  splendid 
Gothic  edifices  of  Great  Britain  when  a  journeyman  mason.  He 
walked  from  town  to  town,  and  made  drawings  of  the  beautiful 
masterpieces  of  his  chosen  profession  wherever  he  found  them, 
and,  untrammelled  by  schools  or  the  advice  of  too  ardent  friends, 
perfected  himself  in  his  favorite  pursuit.  Death  unfortunately 
deprived  the  world  of  his  talents  before  the  splendid  edifice  was 
completed  which  his  original  mind  gave  birth  to,  and  another 
finished  and  successfully  carried  out  what  he  so  admirably  de- 
signed. I  ascended  and  met  a  Norwegian  sea  captain  at  the  top 
who  had  been  at  Philadelphia,  and  as  we  were  both  strangers  we 
joined  company  for  the  balance  of  the  day.  He  had  sailed  from  that 
port  for  the  West  Indies  some  time  during  1850,  and  mistaking 
a  light  on  a  headland  of  one  of  the  Antilles,  had  run  his  vessel  on  a 
reef,  and  lost  her  entirely,  and  was  then  in  Edinburgh  endeavor- 
ing to  purchase  a  steamer  for  the  Baltic  trade. 

The  highest  niches  of  the  monument  are  occupied  by  figures 
in  red  sandstone  of  various  prominent  personages  in  the  works 
of  Scott,  and  that  of  Dominie  Sampson  is  so  admirably  executed 
that  the  beholder  cannot  resist  laughing  at  the  representation  of 
the  horrified  sectarian,  who,  with  upraised  hands  and  face  expres- 
sive of  unmistakable  fright  and  astonishment,  is  exclaiming,  with 
fervor,  "  Prodigious !"  I  laughed  aloud  at  the  horror-stricken 
visage  and  figure  of  the  Dominie,  and  felt  fully  reimbursed  for  my 
trouble  in  climbing  287  steps  to  get  a  look  from  the  topmost 
gallery  of  the  monument,  without  taking  into  consideration  the 
16 


182 

Tiew.  The  best  of  the  remaining  figures  is  that  of  the  "  Last 
Minstrel"  playing  on  his  harp  j  but  none  of  the  balance,  not 
even  the  hag  Meg  Merrilies,  is  so  clearly  individualized  as  the 
affrighted  Dominie. 

The  city  of  Edinburgh,  like  that  of  Rome,  is  located  on  seven 
hills,  and  the  pedestrian  finds  a  great  variety  of  mount  and 
valley  wherever  he  goes.  We  strolled  around  and  through  the 
interesting  portions  of  the  picturesque  capital,  after  leaving  the 
monument,  and  ascended  to  the  old  castle,  and  with  commend- 
able curiosity  examined  its  battlements  and  famous  halls.  The 
room  in  which  James  the  Sixth  was  born  was  honored  with  our 
presence,  and  an  official  personage  exhibited  to  us  the  window  from 
which  the  royal  prince  was  lowered  in  a  basket  when  but  eight 
days  old,  by  some  of  the  Protestant  party,  and  carried  to  Stirling. 
The  walls  of  the  apartment  are  decorated  with  devices  and  inscrip- 
tions, bearing  upon  the  events  connected  with  the  place,  and  the 
date  of  renovation.  The  repairs  were  made  at  the  instigation  of 
James  after  he  was  crowned  King  of  England,  and  at  his  first  visit 
to  his  native  city  after  he  ascended  the  English  throne.  The 
room  is  miserably  small,  and  approached  through  a  large  hall.  A 
loquacious  fellow  employed  by  the  government  relates  the  events 
connected  with  the  place  to  as  many  as  can  get  into  it  at  once, 
and  as  he  is  compelled  to  repeat  the  story  fifty  times  a  day,  he  goes 
through  it  as  if  he  were  reading  prayers  to  a  sleepy  congrega- 
tion, who  take  no  interest  in  the  service.  In  an  apartment  adja- 
cent are  two  portraits  of  James  and  Mary;  that  of  the  mother 
being  a  beautiful  picture  of  a  splendid  woman,  and  that  of  the 
son  an  unmistakable  likeness  of  his  pedantic  majesty.  The  crown 
jewels  are  also  shown ;  but  they  are  not  wonderful,  nor  is  a  man 
repaid  for  standing  in  a  crowded  and  darkened  room  to  view  them 
by  gas-light.  The  walls  of  the  castlo  are  protected  by  heavy 
guns,  one  of  which  is  very  large,  and  known  by  the  name  of  Mons 
Meg.  The  story  goes  that  it  was  cast  at  Mons,  in  Flanders,  but 
it  wants  confirmation,  and  people  don't  much  care  to  pry  into 
either  its  history  or  its  chamber,  for  they  learn  nothing  satisfac- 
tory of  the  first,  and  by  looking  into  the  second  they  are  sure  to 
have  a  sentry  bellowing  in  their  cars,  "  Go  away  from  that  gun," 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  183 

as  if  there  were  danger  of  it  being  carried  off  in  some  curiosity 
hunter's  pocket,  a  thing  not  very  easily  accomplished  when  we 
take  into  consideration  that  its  length  is  about  fifteen  feet,  and 
its  weight  in  proportion  to  its  size.  While  in  the  castle,  I  endea- 
vored to  find  the  point  at  which  Randolph  and  his  daring  followers 
entered  the  fortress  in  1313,  and  recaptured  it  from  the  astonished 
English ;  but  all  my  attempts  were  vain.  The  sentries  were  on 
the  spot,  and  ^'no  admittance  there'^  was  sure  to  greet  me  whenever 
I  advanced  toward  the  place.  The  old  and  formidable-looking 
fortification  stands  on  a  hill  which  rises  perpendicularly  on  three 
sides  from  a  plain,  and  can  be  approached  only  from  the  east 
through  a  street  in  the  old  town.  The  houses  are  built  up  to  the 
walls  which  inclose  the  parade-ground,  and  one  of  them  is 
pointed  out  as  having  been  in  former  times  the  residence  of 
Allan  Ramsay,  the  author  of  the  "Gentle  Shepherd."  It 
bears  no  evidence  of  gentility  at  present  externally,  and  no  one 
would  suppose  that  it  had  ever  been  a  favorite  haunt  of  the  muses. 
High  Street  runs  eastward  from  the  castle,  and  terminates  in  the 
Canongate,  near  John  Knox's  house.  We  walked  down  its  steep 
surface  some  distance,  and,  turning  to  the  right  near  the  old 
cathedral,  crossed  the  bridge  called  after  George  the  Fourth,  and 
thence  passed  on  to  the  Grassmarket  and  West  Bow,  once 
the  main  avenue  by  which  the  elevated  parts  of  the  old  town 
were  reached,  and  through  which  malefactors  in  olden  times  were 
led  to  execution.  My  companion  was  by  no  means  well  posted 
in  Scottish  history,  and  I  volunteered  to  hunt  out  celebrated 
localities  for  our  mutual  gratification. 

The  Grassmarket  was  formerly  the  place  of  public  execution, 
and  I  knew  that  the  Porteous  mob  hung  their  victim  on  that  spot. 
We  found  a  stone  cross  placed  in  the  pavement,  in  the  centre  of  the 
street,  and  learned  that  it  was  there  to  mark  the  precise  locality  of 
the  gallows  in  other  times,  and  that  thousands  of  persons  suffered 
death  where  it  was.  On  that  very  spot  the  enraged  and  deter- 
mined populace  made  the  villain  Porteous  pay  the  penalty  of  his 
rascality,  and  near  there  Wilson,  the  malefactor,  effected  the 
wonderful  escape  of  his  companion  in  crime.  The  West  Bow  has 
witnessed,  however,  other   scenes   besides  executions,  and  other 


184  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

processions  besides  those  of  criminals  going  to  the  scaffold,  for  it 
was  through  that  avenue  that  Oliver  Cromwell  entered  the  city 
of  Edinburgh,  the  victorious  and  triumphant  conqueror  of  Scot- 
land— and  kings  and  princes  innumerable  have  graced  it  with 
their  presence. 

When  a  man  is  near  a  place  made  celebrated  by  remarkable 
occurrences,  there  is  some  excuse  for  his  prying  curiosity,  if  he 
looks  out  the  locality ;  and  if  he  do  not,  he  is  but  a  poor  tourist, 
and  had  better  have  remained  at  home.  I  was  aware  that  the 
(xrassmarket  was  not  far  from  the  scene  of  Burke's  infernal  mur- 
ders, and,  pursuing  our  course  westwardly,  we  entered  a  narrow 
street  called  the  West  Port,  and  threaded  its  crooked  and  steep 
way.  The  angles  of  the  curves  contract  the  view  so  much  as  to 
make  a  person  feel  as  if  completely  hemmed  in,  without  any 
chance  of  egress,  when  he  enters  the  street  a  short  distance;  and 
as  the  people  who  reside  in  it  are  a  wretched  set,  the  place  ap- 
peared to  me  to  be  the  very  spot  for  such  inhuman  amusement  as 
that  practised  by  the  noted  monster.  We  found  the  house  in 
which  the  wretch  lived,  and  that  was  satisfactory.  We  had  no 
curiosity  to  enter  it,  and  soon  made  the  best  of  our  way  to  a  more 
civilized  and  inviting  part  of  the  world,  perfectly  content  with 
what  we  had  seen,  and  pleased  to  find  that  we  escaped  without 
"Burking"  some  walking  ambassadors  from  the  clothing  of  the 
inhabitants  of  that  classic  quarter  of  modern  Athens. 

The  capital  of  Scotland  is  extremely  picturesque,  and  presents 
a  series  of  the  most  romantic  views  from  whatever  point  a  person 
chooses  to  survey  it.  At  one  place  a  bridgfe  spans  a  valley,  and 
crosses  the  houses  of  a  subterranean  town,  while  at  another  near 
by  the  street  leads  to  the  summit  of  a  hill  where  the  houses  are 
so  elevated,  both  in  situation  and  in  stories,  as  to  appear  as  if  they 
formed  a  part  of  a  city  in  the  clouds.  In  fact,  the  modern  Athens, 
as  the  inhabitants  delight  to  stylo  Edinburgh,  is  hills  and  hollows, 
and  if  a  man  don't  like  its  lower  regions,  ho  can  go  up  to  its  hea- 
ven whenever  he  wants  to. 

Its  natural  situation  is  commanding  and  exceedingly  beautiful, 
and  many  of  the  public  buildings  are  remarkably  fine;  but,  un- 
fortunately, the  ungainly  houses  in  the  old  town  come  too  near 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  186 

the  splendid  edifices  of  the  new,  and  the  walls  of  the  ten  story 
dwellings,  which  present  such  a  gloomy  aspect  when  viewed  from 
Princes  Street,  lead  the  observer  to  the  conclusion  that  Napoleon 
was  right  when  he  said  that  there  was  but  one  step  from  the  sub- 
lime to  the  ridiculous,  as  it  is  but  little  more  than  that  from  the 
splendid  monument  to  Scott,  which  is  the  perfection  of  Gothic 
architecture,  to  the  scarred  and  towering  houses  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hollow,  which  are  the  veriest  abortions  of  the  distempered 
imagination  of  an  insane  architect.  In  the  Canongate  are  some 
singular  old  dwellings  with  the  second  story  projecting  over  the 
pavement,  and  the  fronts  strangely  ornamented.  John  Knox's 
house  is  on  that  street,  and  at  present  the  old  structure  presents 
a  tolerably  clean  appearance,  although  it  is  located  in  a  part  of 
the  city  by  no  means  remarkable  for  the  cleanliness  of  the  in- 
habitants or  of  the  avenue.  The  people  hold  the  ancient  building 
in  reverence ;  but  for  all  that  allow  a  publican  to  occupy  a  portion 
of  it,  and  sell  gin  and  whiskey  in  pennyworths  within  its  walls. 

Holyrood  Palace  is  a  large  quadrangular  structure,  situate  in  a 
valley  between  the  eastern  extremity  of  Calton  Hill  and  Arthur's 
Seat,  and  principally  interesting  on  account  of  its  having  been 
the  scene  of  the  murder  of  Rizzio  by  Darnley  and  his  fellow-con- 
spirators. The  old  woman  who  bows  strangers  through  the  apart- 
ments of  Mary  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  ancient  cicerone^  and  be- 
comes the  place  wonderfully.  She  dresses  in  black,  and  when  in 
the  room  once  occupied  by  the  unfortunate  princess,  speaks  in  a 
whisper  to  her  auditors,  and  commands  the  utmost  attention  as 
she  describes  in  solemn  tones  the  events  connected  with  the  mur- 
der, and  the  articles  in  the  apartment.  The  bed  in  which  Mary 
slept  the  last  time  she  was  in  Holyrood  House  is  exhibited,  with 
her  work-basket  and  dressing-case,  and  in  the  room  adjoining  the 
sleeping  apartment  of  the  princes  is  a  portrait  of  Rizzio,  at  an 
early  age.  If  the  Italian  was  as  handsome  as  the  picture,  then 
there  was  no  doubt  some  cause  for  Darnley^s  jealousy,  and  it  is 
not  injustice  to  Mary  to  suppose  that  her  susceptible  heart  had 
its  secret  yearnings  for  the  handsome  musician.  The  old  lady  is 
one  of  the  fixtures  of  the  place,  and  shows,  with  a  pious  anxiety 
for  their  preservation,  the  spots  of  Rizzio's  gore  which  stain  the 

16^= 


186 

floor.  Myself  and  companion  were  disposed  to  doubt  the  genuine- 
ness of  the  blood,  and  received  a  sound  lecture  from  the  ancient 
dame  for  our  incredulity.  She  was  shocked  at  our  infidelity,  and 
almost  screamed  aloud  when  she  heard  us  express  our  disbelief. 
We  appeased  her  anger  by  apologizing  for  our  hastily  uttered 
doubts,  and  were  conducted  through  the  room  occupied  by  Charles 
the  Second  when  he  visited  the  house,  and  then  into  the  great 
hall  where  of  yore  the  Scottish  lords  were  wont  to  assemble,  and 
which  Oliver  Cromwell  turned  into  a  barracks  for  his  soldiers 
during  his  stay  in  Edinburgh.  The  walls  of  this  apartment  are 
ornainented  with  what  are  said  to  be  the  portraits  of  the  Scottish 
kings,  but  they  are  nearly  all  alike,  .and  evidently  painted  by  the 
same  hand.  Each  face  has  a  nose  on  it  that  rises  like  the  peak  of 
Ben  Lomond,  and  looks  more  like  a  carbuncle  than  the  nasal  ap- 
pendage of  a  monarch.  The  old  lady  expects  a  fee  from  each  visit- 
or, and  no  one  escapes  her  without  paying  for  her  services.  There 
were  several  persons  with  us,  and,  as  we  were  leaving,  myself  and 
companion  presented  her  with  a  small  coin  for  her  labor,  and  were 
going,  when  she  laid  her  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  and  demanded 
pay  for  a  "cannie  Scot"  whom  she  thought  to  be  of  our  party, 
and  who  was  quietly  getting  to  the  door  without  paying  for  his 
share  of  her  eloquence.  I  denied  the  fellow,  and  she  bellowed  at 
the  top  of  her  hysterical  voice — ''  Stop  that  man;  he  hasn't  paid 
me ;"  and,  turning  to  me,  she  continued,  "  I'll  hold  you  till  he 
comes  I"  I  laughed  heartily  at  her,  and  as  Sawney  returned  and 
settled  the  score,  I  took  my  departure,  completely  satisfied  with 
my  visit  to  one  part  of  Ilolyrood,  and  wended  my  way  to  the  ruins 
of  the  old  abbey.  A  man  conducted  us  through  the  fallen  chapel 
and  over  the  tombs  of  defunct  kings  and  nobles.  The  rich  carv- 
ings, the  crumbling  columns,  and  deserted  cloisters  had  a  charm 
for  me  far  beyond  the  dusty  rooms  we  had  just  left,  and  I  derived 
a  melancholy  pleasure  in  contemplating  the  decaying  splendors  of 
the  sacred  fane.  The  great  east  window  still  remains,  and  the 
confessional  of  Mary  is  shown  with  considerable  solemnity  to  the 
visitor.  The  church  has  been  used  at  different  periods  by  three 
distinct  sects  of  Christians,  Catholics,  Episcopalians,  and  Presby- 
terians; but  each  denomination  has  had  its  day  within  the  walls, 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  187 

and  now  the  officious  menials  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  exhibit 
its  tombs  and  architectural  beauties  to  the  lovers  of  the  old  and 
remarkable,  and  obsequiously  bow  the  stranger  through  its  clois- 
ters, its  galleries,  and  its  holy  aisles.     I  am  no  sectarian ;  but 

"The  faintest  relics  of  a  shrine, 
Of  any  worship,  summon  thoughts  divine" 

within  my  breast,  and  I  love  to  ramble  in  reflective  mood  among 
the  hallowed  and  splendid  ruins  of  the  monastic  houses  of  the 
monks  of  old. 

The  other  places  of  interest  in  Edinburgh  are  Arthur's  Seat, 
the  University,  and  museums.  The  dark  hill  rises  toweringly 
above  the  city,  and  commands  a  splendid  and  glorious  prospect. 
I  visited  it  several  times  during  my  week's  residence  in  the  ca- 
pital, and  never  regretted  having  climbed  to  its  summit.  It  is 
always  ascended  by  tourists,  and  a  stranger  not  unfrequently  meets 
on  its  top  representatives  from  all  the  nations  of  Northern  Europe, 
and  delegates  from  the  Republic  of  the  Western  World.  Its  ut- 
most height  is  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and 
from  that  point,  looking  south,  one  sees  Craig  Millar  Castle  and 
the  town  of  Dalkeith,  with  the  Lammermuir  and  Pentland  Hills 
in  the  distance ;  while  to  the  east  the  German  Ocean  and  Frith 
of  Forth  lie  as  if  at  the  spectator's  feet,  and  the  distant  point  of 
Preston  Pans,  celebrated  for  the  engagement  fought  there  between 
the  troops  of  Prince  Charles  and  those  of  the  government  in  the 
rebellion  of  1715,  is  in  full  view.  The  ruins  of  St.  Anthony's 
Chapel,  so  graphically  described  by  Scott,  stand  on  a  cliff,  or  spur 
of  the  Salisbury  Crags,  and  the  cottage  of  Davie  Deans  is  pointed 
out  between  the  highest  peak  of  the  mountain  and  the  castellated 
and  picturesque  city. 

The  colleges  and  museums  of  Edinburgh  do  not  differ  materially 
from  those  of  other  countries,  and  a  description  of  this  class  of 
institutions  in  one  section  of  the  world  can  be  appropriately  ap- 
plied to  all.  The  hospitals  and  charitable  establishments  of  the 
city  are  numerous  and  well  conducted,  and  the  philanthropist  will 
derive  both  pleasure  and  knowledge  from  a  visit  to  these  institu- 
tions of  the  Scottish  capital. 


188  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

During  my  sojourn  there,  I  became  acquainted  with  a  Scotch 
phrenologist,  whose  talent  and  acquirements  I  have  no  cause  to 
underrate.  He  lodged  at  the  same  house  with  myself,  and,  on  a 
dull,  rainy  day,  amused  and  delighted  a  company  of  four  of  us 
with  reminiscences  and  observations  made  during  his  erratic  wan- 
derings. He  was  a  well  read,  intelligent  man,  and  possessed  a 
wonderful  knowledge  of  human  character.  His  reading  was 
by  no  means  confined  to  his  favorite  science,  nor  did  he  follow 
implicitly  the  laws  laid  down  by  other  professors  of  phrenology  in 
his  practice.  He  was  an  excellent  physiognomist  as  well  as  phre- 
nologist, and  judiciously  combined  the  two  when  judging  of  the 
dispositions  and  characters  of  men. 

He  had  the  honesty  to  acknowledge  his  many  shortcomings, 
and,  in  relating  his  adventures,  never  purposely  made  himself  the 
hero  of  his  story.  The  day  wore  away  imperceptibly  as  we  listened 
to  his  fascinating  conversation,  and  not  one  of  us  regretted  having 
met  with  a  companion  so  instructive  and  agreeable.  He  was  what 
is  called  a  clever  man  in  England,  aiid  his  conversational  powers 
were  wonderful. 

Before  leaving  the  city,  I  visited  several  interesting  places  in 
the  vicinity,  including  Roslyn  Chapel  and  Craig  Millar  Castle. 
At  the  entrance  to  the  latter,  there  was  a  huge  watch-dog,  whose 
countenance  did  not  lead  me  to  cultivate  his  intimate  acquaint- 
ance, nor  was  it  desirable  to  be  familiar  with  him.  I  asked  the 
boy,  who  conducted  me  around  the  ruin,  whether  the  animal 
would  bite. 

"  I  dinna  ken,  sir,  but  he  tore  all  the  clathos  aff  a  lady  yistcr- 
day,  when  she  gaed  near  him." 

That  was  satisfactory  to  me,  and  corroborated  my  ideas  of  the 
true  character  of  the  canine  guard  of  the  famous  prison-house  of 
persecut-cd  Queen  Mary.     He  was  a  perfect  Cerberus. 

As  it  was  the  harvest-season,  I  met  numbers  of  Irishmen  on 
the  road  who  had  crossed  from  their  native  land  in  search  of  em- 
ployment as  reapers.  They  were  tolerably  well  clothed,  and  each 
had  with  him  a  sickle  for  cutting  grain.  The  cottages  on  my 
walk  were  much  better  lighted  and  ventilated  than  the  huts  in 
the  Highlands,  but  still  unfit  for  human  habitations.     The  floors 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  189 

were  of  stone,  and  the  interiors  of  each  abominably  filthy.  The 
peasantry  were  surly  and  unsociable,  and  by  no  means  so  friendly 
as  the  mechanics  of  the  cities.  From  my  own  observation,  I  am 
inclined  to  consider  their  reserved  manners  a  necessary  result  of 
their  condition  and  the  circumstances  by  which  they  are  sur- 
rounded. In  other  short  journeys,  I  noticed  the  same.  The 
women  were  always  more  communicative  than  the  men,  and  there 
was  a  spirit  of  inquiry  among  them  more  worthy  of  commenda- 
tion. Although  the  men  are  unsociable,  I  believe  that  the  rural 
population  of  Scotland  is  a  better  educated  class  and  more  intel- 
ligent than  the  English,  and  consequently  superior. 


CHAPTER    XYIII. 

A  VISIT  TO   THE  TOMB  OF  MICHAEL    BRUCE,  A   YOUNG    SCOTTISH 

POET. 

Having  entertained  for  years  a  strong  admiration  for  the  cha- 
racter of  Michael  Bruce,  a  young  Scottish  poet  of  some  distinction, 
I  made  a  pilgrimage  to  his  tomb,  in  fulfilment  of  a  long-formed 
determination.  The  cold-hearted  and  cynical  may  sneer  at  my 
simplicity,  and  ask,  with  a  laugh  of  derision,  ^'  Who  was  Michael 
Bruce?''  But  the  jeers  of  the  world  never  yet  deterred  me  from 
carrying  out  my  designs,  nor  prevented  me  from  paying  respect  to 
merit,  no  matter  whether  it  existed  in  a  peasant  or  a  peer;  and 
I  feel  conscious  that  they  cannot  change  my  disposition  now. 
Michael  Bruce  was  a  young  man  of  poor  and  obscure  parents, 
and,  though  born  in  a  Highland  cottage,  his  acknowledged  talents 
and  amability  of  character  gained  for  him  a  name  that  maay  a  one 
born  in  a  higher  sphere  of  life  may  well  envy.  He  died  at  the  early 
age  of  twenty-one  years,  and  left  behind  him  a  number  of  poetical 
compositions  which  have  placed  him  in  the  list  of  British  bards, 
and  given  his  name  and  character  to  the  republic  of  letters.  He 
was  a  contemporary  and  personal  friend  of  Logan,  the  reputed 


190  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

author  of  "  An  Odo  to  the  Cuckoo,"  a  poem  which  has  deh'ghted 
thousands  of  readers  wherever  the  language  of  England  is  spoken; 
and  as  that  person  published  as  his  own  many  of  the  known  pro- 
ductions of  Bruce,  there  arc  good  grounds  for  asserting  that  "  The 
Cuckoo"  was  written  by  the  youthful  poet,  and  stolen  bodily  from 
him  by  Logan.  The  works  of  Bruce  have  attracted  considerable 
attention  among  literary  circles  in  Scotland  of  late  years,  and  a 
copy  of  them  now  before  me,  edited  by  a  distinguished  literary 
gentleman,  contains  the  poem  on  the  merit  of  which  rests  the 
poetical  reputation  of  Logan.  Many  of  the  acknowledged  odes 
of  Bruce  are  equal  to  the  "  Cuckoo,"  and  that  much  cannot  be 
said  of  the  writings  of  the  assumed  author  of  the  poem.  It  is  a 
little  remarkable  that  Logan  should  have  written  but  one  ode  in 
the  measure  adopted  in  the  beautiful  composition  attributed  to 
him,  while  Michael  Bruce  left  behind  him  several  of  the  same 
.prosodical  construction.  Logan  published  a  collection  of  his 
works  shortly  after  the  death  of  his  friend,  and  incorporated  in 
the  volume,  as  his  own,  a  number  of  odes  written  by  Bruce,  among 
which,  there  is  no  doubt  in  the  minds  of  competent  judges  at  this 
day,  was  the  "  Ode  to  the  Cuckoo."  But  whether  Bruce  was  the 
author  of  that  production  or  not,  his  fame  does  not  rest  upon  the 
doubt  connected  with  it,  nor  upon  the  poem  if  it  be  his.  He  was 
naturally  of  a  weak  constitution,  and  by  close  application  to  study 
and  his  duties  as  an  instructor  of  youth,  he  fell  into  a  rapid  decline, 
and  while  in  the  last  lingering  stages  of  consumption,  possessed 
the  calmness  of  spirit  and  fortitude  of  soul  to  contemplate  his  ap-. 
preaching  dissolution  in  a  poem,  which,  for  gentleness  of  thought, 
beauty  of  language,  and  line  imagery,  equals,  in  some  respects, 
the  sublime  elegy  of  Gray.  Witness  the  following  lines,  and 
imagine  the  youthful  bard  quietly  contemplating  the  certain  ap- 
proach of  the  angel  of  death,  and  then  say  whether  my  estimation 
of  his  character  is  too  high,  or  my  visit  to  his  tomb  a  foolish 
journey: — 

•*  Now  spring  returns,  but  not  to  me  returns 

Tlio  vernal  joys  my  bettor  years  have  known  ; 
Dim  in  my  breast  life's  dying  taper  bums, 
And  all  the  joys  of  life  with  health  arc  flown. 


191 

"Starting  and  shivering  in  the  inconstant  wind, 
Meagre  and  pale,  the  ghost  of  what  I  was. 
Beneath  some  blasted  tree  I  lie  reclined, 

And  count  the  silent  moments  as  they  pass." 

How  beautiful  the  picture,  and  how  appropriate  the  thought !  A 
vigorous  tree  shivered  by  the  blasts  of  spring,  and  beneath  its 
shattered  arms  a  dying  youth  silently  noting  the  passing  moments, 
with  a  full  consciousness  that  his  race  is  near  at  end,  and  his  soul 
will  soon  wing  its  flight  to  realms  beyond  the  grave.  Death,  at 
all  times,  is  a  solemn  thing,  and  but  few  have  the  fortitude  to 
witness  its  sure  approach  without  a  shudder,  and  none  to  welcome 
it  with  more  calmness  than  did  the  gentle  and  talented  poet  of 
Loch  Leven. 

I  left  Edinburgh  in  the  morning  and  proceeded  to  Granton  Pier, 
from  which  place  I  crossed  the  Frith  of  Forth,  and  took  rail  to 
Markinch,  the  nearest  station  to  Portmoak,  the  burial-place  of 
Bruce.  The  morning  was  cloudy  and  rain  impended;  but  as  the 
wind  was  high,  I  was  not  deterred  from  my  journey,  and  set  out  on 
a  walk  to  the  place  of  my  destination.  My  road  lay  toward  Loch 
Leven,  through  a  hilly  country,  and  as  I  was  alone  I  enjoyed 
without  interruption  the  beauties  of  the  landscape  and  my  own 
reflections.  I  passed  through  the  extended  village  of  Leslie,  and 
aff"orded  the  denizens  of  that  place  something  to  talk  about,  for 
they  evidently  considered  me  a  wonder,  and  flocked  to  the  doors 
with  as  much  eager  curiosity  as  if  I  had  been  Prince  Albert. 
The  way  became  more  rugged  and  mountainous  as  I  approached 
the  highlands,  and  the  heavy  Scotch  mists  occasionally  settled 
around  me,  but  no  rain  fell,  and  after  a  walk  of  but  little  less 
than  ten  miles,  I  entered  the  secluded  village  of  Portmoak  and 
inquired  for  the  sexton  of  the  kirk.  The  inhabitants  and  myself 
were  on  a  par  so  far  as  a  knowledge  of  each  other^s  language  ex- 
tended, as  they  understood  about  one-half  of  what  I  said,  and  I 
about  a  corresponding  amount  of  what  they  uttered.  I  succeeded, 
however,  without  much  difficulty,  in  finding  the  house  of  him  I 
sought,  and  his  wife,  a  plain  and  intelligent  Scotch  woman,  ac- 
companied me  to  the  church.  The  building  is  a  square,  prosy- 
looking  edifice,  as  solemn  and  sour  in  appearance  as  were  the 


192 

vinegar-visagcd  Puritan  parsons  of  old;  no  ornaments,  no  spire, 
no  beauty — it  is  the  "  most  straitest  of  its  sect/'  and  as  dreary 
as  a  tomb.  The  Scotch  are  wofully  deficient  in  their  modem 
churches,  and  fall  immeasurably  behind  the  English  in  ecclesias- 
tical structures.  They  want  a  love  for  the  splendid  in  church 
architecture — its  religion,  if  you  please;  and  less  of  that  solemn, 
square,  four-walled  style  of  building  which  prevails  to  so  great  an 
extent  among  them.  Their  villages  are  not  handsome ;  there  is 
no  beautifully  designed  place  of  worship,  with  its  tall  and  grace- 
ful spire  pointing  to  heaven,  to  attract  the  stranger's  gaze,  and 
add  a  charm  to  the  hamlet.  All  is  plain,  level,  and  devoid  of 
ornament.  The  monks  of  old  knew  the  glories  of  a  splendid  Gothic 
edifice  and  its  religious  influences;  but  the  Scotch,  in  their  great 
reformation,  swept  both  the  beautiful  in  church  architecture  and 
the  monks  away  together,  and  now  bend  the  knee  in  temples  as 
devoid  of  the  beautiful,  in  most  cases,  as  the  structures  they  razed 
were  remarkable  for  it. 

I  followed  my  guide  into  the  burial-ground,  and  as  the  old  lady 
was  well  informed  respecting  the  history  of  the  poet,  I  spent  a 
pleasant  half  hour  in  her  company,  near  the  urn  placed  over  his 
remains.  The  memento  was  erected  by  some  literary  gentlemen 
as  an  evidence  of  their  appreciation  of  the  worth  of  the  bard,  and 
numbers  of  the  countrymen  of  Bruce  usually  visit  the  place  dur- 
ing the  summer  months,  when  making  the  circuit  of  Loch  Leven. 
The  churchyard  is  immediately  below  the  craggy  summit  of  the 
Lomond  Hills,  and  in  full  view  of  the  island  castle  in  the  lake, 
so  long  the  prison  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  and  which  furnished 
the  subject  of  the  longest  poem  of  the  lamented  and  pious  bard. 
The  scenery  around  is  picturesque  and  rugged,  though  not  so 
much  resorted  to  as  the  more  famed  locality  of  Loch  Lomond. 
On  the  urn  is  the  subjoined  inscription,  which  is  by  no  means  an 
exaggeration  of  cither  the  character  or  talents  of  him  who  rests 
below : — 


OR, 


193 


THE  BODY  OF 

MICHAEL  BRUCE, 

Who  was  born  at  Kinneswood  in  1746; 

and  died 

While  a  student  in  connection  with  the  Secession  Church 

in  the  21st  Year  of  his  Age. 

Meek  and  gentle  in  spirit,  sincere  and  unpretending  in  his  Christian  de- 
portment ;  refined  in  intellect,  and  elevated  in  character,  he  was  greatly 
beloved  by  his  friends,  and  won  the  esteem  of  all ;  while  his  genius, 
whose  fire  neither  poverty  nor  sickness  could  quench,  produced  those 
odes,  unrivalled  for  simplicity  and  pathos,  which  have  shed  an  undying 
lustre  on  his  name. 
Early,  bright,  transient,  chaste  as  morning  dew,  he  sparkled  and  exhaled, 
and  went  to  heaven, 
/ 

The  name  of  Michael  Bruce  is  unknown  except  to  literary  men, 
and  but  few  strangers,  if  any,  visit  his  grave.  No  foreigners  go 
to  Portmoak,  and  I  was  probably  the  first  that  ever  visited  the 
place  with  the  main  purpose  of  seeing  the  poet's  tomb.  The  old 
lady  looked  at  me  with  a  puzzled  gaze,  and  appeared  at  a  loss  to 
know  who  and  what  I  was.  She  was  aware  that  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  said  to  me,  half  doubtingly,  half  inquiringly,  "  Ye'r  no'  En- 
glish, and  I  dinna  ken  what  ye  be.''  I  purposely  kept  her  in 
ignorance  of  the  land  of  my  birth  until  on  the  eve  of  my  de- 
parture, when  I  told  her  I  was  an  American.  Her  face  brightened 
up,  and  she  exclaimed,  "Ay!  I  thought  they  were  a'  black;  but 
how  a  body  may  be  mista'en.  But  were  you  born  there  ?"  she 
asked  rather  eagerly,  supposing  she  had  made  an  error  by  a  too 
ready  expression  of  opinion.  I  told  her  I  was,  and  my  ancestors 
before  me.  '^  Weel,  weel,"  she  continued,  "  I'm  glad  ye  cam', 
for  I'd  ne'er  believed  but  that  they  were  a'  black,  had  I  na'  seen 
ye ;"  and  with  a  smile  at  her  simple  innocence  I  bade  her  good- 
by,  and  returned  to  Markinch,  past  the  ruins  of  Arnot  Castle, 
and  through  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  River  Leven,  and  arrived 
at  the  Scottish  capital,  after  a  pleasant  day's  excursion  to  the 
birth  and  burial-place  of  Michael  Bruce. 
17 


194  THE  FOOTrATH  AND  IIIGnWAY  J 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MELROSE — ABBOTSrORD — DRYBURGII,  THE  BURIAL-PLACE  OF 
SIR  WALTER  SCOTT. 

Abbotsford,  Melrose,  and  Dryburgh  are  sacred  names  to  the 
admirers  of  the  genius  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  the  places  to 
which  they  belong  arc  now  Meccas  of  the  mind.  Thousands  an- 
nually resort  to  their  walls,  drawn  there  by  the  wizard-like  in- 
fluence of  the  great  novelist  and  poet;  and  but  few  make  the  tour 
of  Scotland  without  including  in  their  journey  a  visit  to  one  or 
the  other  of  these  celebrated  places.  I  left  Edinburgh  in  com- 
pany with  a  young  Englishman,  who  was,  like  myself,  a  pilgrim 
to  the  shrine  of  genius,  and  after  an  agreeable  travel  of  thirty 
miles  or  more,  during  which  we  passed  the  ruined  castles  of  Both- 
well  and  Crichton,  arrived  at  the  quiet  village  of  Melrose.  A 
pleasant  walk  of  three  miles  brought  us  to  the  turreted  and  pic- 
turesque mansion  of  Abbotsford,  and  on  presenting  ourselves  at 
the  lodge,  we  were  admitted  to  the  grounds  and  most  attractive 
portions  of  the  house.  The  building  is  very  irregular,  but  singu- 
larly imposing,  and  well  calculated  to  force  remembrance  upon  the 
mind.  In  the  court-yard,  immediately  in  front  of  the  entraneo- 
door,  in  the  centre  of  a  circular  grass-plot,  stands  the  urn  which 
flowed  with  wine  at  Holy  rood  at  the  time  James  the  Sixth  visited 
that  royal  abode  after  he  had  been  crowned  King  of  England ; 
and  in  the  wall  of  the  building  are  shown  the  door  of  the  Old 
Tolbooth  of  Edinburgh,  and  the  pulpit  of  Kalph  Eri^kiuc.  Se- 
veral petrified  antlers,  of  enormous  size,  adorn  the  porchway  lead- 
ing into  the  entrancc-hall,  and  at  the  side  of  the  approach  is  a 
marble  figure  of  the  celebrated  dog  Maida,  while  the  garden  in- 
closure  abounds  in  the  fragments  of  broken  columns  and  nameless 
sculpture.  We  were  politely  ushered  into  the  vestibule  of  the 
mansion  by  an  agreeable  lady  of  some  forty  years,  and  conducted 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  195 

through  the  various  departments  open  to  visitors.  One  of  thera 
is  adorned  with  relics  of  antiquity  and  articles  of  historical  note, 
forming  in  themselves  a  perfect  museum.  Its  ceiling  is  of  carved 
oak;  its  walls  ornamented  with  curiosities,  from  the  key  of  the 
Tolbooth  to  the  richly  blazoned  coats-armorial  of  the  most  cele- 
brated of  the  border  families,  while  the  floor  is  inlaid  with  black  and 
white  marble  from  the  Hebrides.  Here  are  articles  described  by 
Sir  Walter  in  his  matchless  novels,  and  they  well  become  the 
place.  From  this  we  entered  the  private  study  of  the  great  man, 
and  were  allowed  to  touch  his  arm-chair,  and  look  at  the  body- 
clothes  last  worn  by  him.  They  are  kept  in  a  case,  and  viewed 
through  glass  at  the  top,  and  are  extremely  plain  and  unpretend- 
ing. No  effort  at  display  is  exhibited  in  those  garments,  and  they 
are  just  such  as  any  one  acquainted  with  the  character  of  the  man 
would  expect  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  wear.  The  only  furniture  in 
the  study  is  a  plain  desk  and  the  chair  alluded  to.  It  was  in  that 
room  he  wrote  the  most  wonderful  of  his  works,  and  the  visitor 
treads  its  sacred  floor  with  a  noiseless  step,  fearful  that  he  is  an 
intruder,  and  half  expecting  to  see  Sir  Walter  enter  from  the  ad- 
joining library.  I  am  sure  I  unconsciously  awaited  his  return; 
everything  looked  so  natural,  just  as  if  he  had  left  the  room  for  a 
moment  and  gone  to  the  adjacent  apartment  after  a  book  for 
reference.  There  is  a  small  gallery  around  three  sides  of  the 
room,  which  leads  to  the  sleeping-chamber  once  occupied  by  the 
novelist,  so  constructed  that  he  could  retire  to  rest  from  his  mid- 
night labors  without  disturbing  the  sleep  of  others.  We  passed 
on  to  the  library,  a  large  and  magnificent  room,  the  roof  of  which 
is  carved  oak,  after  that  in  Roslyn  Chapel.  It  contains  nearly 
twenty  thousand  volumes,  some  of  which  are  extremely  rare  and 
valuable.  On  a  stand  in  one  section  is  an  urn  of  silver,  contain- 
ing human  ashes  and  bones,  from  the  long  wall  at  Athens, 
which,  according  to  the  inscription,  was  presented  by  Lord  Byron 
to  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  1815.  The  breakfast  parlor  is  a  most 
winning  little  room  ;  but  the  dining-hall  is  the  richest  in  art. 
There  is  a  painting  of  the  head  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  on  a 
silver  charger ;  a  portrait  of  Charles  the  Twelfth  of  Sweden; 
one  of  that  stern  hero  Cromwell ;  and  one  of  the  eldest  son  of  the 


196  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  IIIOIIWAY; 

novelist,  in  the  uniform  of  a  Colonel  of  Hussars,  and  a  fine- 
looking  man  he  was.  Other  works  of  great  merit  adorn  the  walls 
of  the  apartment,  and  the  armory  is  rich  in  articles  of  the  notori- 
ous and  the  great.  Here  are  Napoleon's  pistols — there  Rob  Hoy's 
death-dealing  gun — on  this  rack  Toledo  blades,  as  full  of  temper 
as  the  men  who  wore  them  ;  while  around  are  swords  of  kings — 
spears  and  battle-axes — arms  of  crusaders — and  rapiers  of  truest 
steel.  Here  a  pair  of  thumb-screws,  those  mad  torturers  of  Spain, 
and  there  a  chain  that  bound  a  prisoner,  now  rusty  with  the  tears 
of  him  who  felt  its  iron  grasp.  The  curious  may  pass  hours  in 
examining  these  relics  of  the  past,  and  find  much  to  amuse  and 
instruct. 

The  windows  facing  the  Tweed  command  a  view  of  great 
splendor  up  and  down  that  rapid,  flashing  crystal  stream ;  and 
the  location,  the  comforts,  and  the  internal  arrangements  of  the 
mansion  are  unsurpassed,  look  at  them  as  we  may.  It  is  the  very 
earthly  paradise  of  a  poet  and  a  great  mind,  that  Abbotsford — 
and  how  pitiful  that  the  originator  and  wonderful  man,  whoso 
history  is  its  history,  should  have  lost  it  in  his  latter  days,  and 
died  within  its  walls,  on  the  sufferance  of  a  creditor!  The 
grounds  around  are  laid  out  with  exquisite  taste,  and  adorned 
with  rich  exotic  flowers  and  valuable  plants.  The  walks  are 
mostly  secluded  and  romantic,  and  the  surrounding  scenery  is 
beautifully  picturesque.  We  passed  several  hours  most  agreeably 
within  the  limits  of  the  princely  estate,  and  returned  to  look  upon 
the  walls  of  Melrose  Abbey. 

The  ruin  is  much  smaller  than  we  expected ;  but  its  beauty, 
even  under  a  dull  sky,  is  wonderful.  The  carvings  are  most  ex- 
quisite ;  and  the  long  aisles  and  solitary  cloisters,  the  rich  groin- 
ing and  crumbling  walls,  the  secret  avenues  and  solemn  cells,  all 
stand  in  quiet  ruin  like  monuments  of  the  mighty  past,  and 
chain-links  between  these  and  other  years.  I  never  yet  entered 
one  of  those  glorious  edifices  but  my  mind  at  once  became  im- 
pressed with  a  sense  of  the  mutability  of  earthly  things,  and  the 
decline  and  change  of  earthly  power.  Here,  thought  I,  of  old, 
the  solemn  monks  trod  the  cloisters,  and  engaged  in  the  impres- 
sive services  of  their  sect — and  here  dwelt  bishops  and  abbots 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  197 

whose  influence  was  all  powerful,  and  whose  persons  were  sacred 
in  the  eyes  of  an  ignorant  world ;  but  now  what  a  change !  The 
roofless  abbey  is  the  dwelling  of  the  birds  of  the  air,  and 
its  high  altar-place  is  overgrown  with  grass,  while  the  tourist 
treads  with  levity  on  the  graves  of  the  once  potent  and  holy 
fathers  of  the  church ;  and  people  of  another  creed  exhibit  the 
beauties  of  the  edifice  to  the  curious  and  admiring.  The  splendid 
ruin  attests  the  poetical  talents  of  its  constructors,  and  may  well 
be  called  the  fragments  of  a  glorious  Gothic  poem.  Go  look  at 
that  long  range  of  richly  carved  windows,  which  once  let  sunlight 
into  the  lengthened  nave,  through  glass  of  a  thousand  colorings — 
examine  the  variety  of  design,  and  the  graceful  curves  of  the  fo- 
liage-formed capitals — the  splendid  and  exquisitely  chiselled  carv- 
ings of  the  columns  and  mullions— the  ornaments  of  the  arches 
— the  rich  and  graceful  curves  in  the  great  east  window — the 
sculptured  flowers,  grasped  firm  by  human  hands — the  clustered 
pillars — the  deserted  choir — the  whole  of  the  triumphant  pile — • 
and  then  think  of  the  genius  of  the  past!  Now  rich  velvety 
grass  grows  luxuriantly  in  the  chancel,  the  nave,  and  the  high 
altar-place,  once  sacred  to  rites  religious;  and  the  sunlight  streams 
through  broken  oriel  and  ornate  aisle,  in  full  blaze  upon  the  earth- 
floored  monastic  fane.  The  heart  of  a  once  heroic  king,  and  the 
dust  of  bishops,  warriors,  and  nobles,  mingle  with  the  decayed 
fragments  of  the  falling  temple,  and  nurture  the  green  vegetation 
within  its  walls ;  but  what  there  is  left  of  the  gorgeous  monu- 
ment of  the  past  claims  the  admiration  of  the  lover  of  the  beau- 
tiful, and  the  liberal  mind  is  consoled  with  the  fact  that  the 
emergency  which  swept  away  the  evil  from  the  shrine  permitted 
suflBcient  of  the  beautiful  and  glorious  to  remain  to  claim  the  ad- 
miration of  men,  regardless  of  creed  or  clime.  I  could  live  for- 
ever within  the  shadows  of  ruined  abbeys,  and  drink  in  inspira- 
tion, while  viewing  their  elegance  and  almost  fadeless  splendor. 

My  companion  was  satisfied  with  Melrose,  and  did  not  feel  in- 
clined to  keep  me  company  to  Dryburgh  Abbey,  so  I  set  out 
alone  on  a  walk  of  nine  miles,  near  the  close  of  a  cloudy  day,  to 
the  grave  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  The  road  lay  through  a  hilly 
country,  and  skirted  the  base  of  the  Eildon  Hills,  celebrated  in 

17* 


198  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

the  songs  of  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  and  the  works  of  the  novelist. 
They  are  three  in  number,  and  rise  like  so  many  pyramids  almost 
abruptly  from  the  lands  on  the  south  of  the  Tweed,  near  Mel- 
rose, and  present  a  remarkable  appearance.  I  leisurely  pursued 
my  course,  and  after  following  a  direct  road  for  more  than  three 
miles,  turned  into  a  narrow  overshaded  lane,  which  led  me  to  the 
banks  of  the  swift  gurgling  Tweed.  A  boatman  ferried  me 
across  the  stream,  and  I  soon  entered  the  extensive  park  attached 
to  the  fine  old  ruin.  The  sward  was  of  the  richest  green,  and 
the  broad  arms  of  several  cedars  of  Lebanon,  of  great  magnitude, 
overshadowed  the  ground,  and  lent  a  peculiar  charm  to  the  rich 
landscape.  A  yew-tree,  supposed  to  be  as  old  as  the  Abbey — 
700  years — stands  like  a  jealous  sentinel  among  his  towering 
neighbors,  and  hides  from  sight  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  monas- 
tery as  you  enter  the  inclosure.  I  approached,  and  soon  stood 
within  the  shattered  walls  of  the  building.  The  chapter-house 
and  cloisters  are  the  most  entire,  but  they  are  now  only  a  frag- 
ment of  their  former  dimensions.  In  the  centre  of  a  secluded 
section,  once  a  favorite  resort  of  the  religious  brotherhood, 
stands  a  statue  of  Inigo  Jones,  the  famous  architect ;  and  another 
of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  adorns  the  deserted  chapter-house.  The 
walls  are  overgrown  with  ivy,  and  the  south  window,  a  fine  oriel, 
is  almost  curtained  with  the  emerald  leaves  of  the  ruin-haunting 
vine.  That  portion  of  the  abbey  is  the  most  imposing  part  of 
what  remains,  and  the  richly  mullioned  circular  window  which 
adorns  the  centre  of  the  massive  wall  is  beauty's  self.  The 
building  was  in  the  usual  form  of  a  Latin  cross,  but  what  remains 
at  this  day  is  irregular  and  imperfect,  conveying  no  exact  idea  of 
the  extent  or  magnificence  of  the  edifice  when  entire.  St.  Mary's 
Aisle,  a  detached  portion  of  the  ruin,  is  the  tomb  of  the  "  great 
Wizard  of  the  North,"  and  at  his  side  are  those  of  his  wife  and 
eldest  son.  The  graves  are  plain  ;  three  heavy  slabs  of  Peter- 
head granite  cover  the  three  narrow  mansions  of  the  dead,  and 
over  all  rise  the  ivy-clothed  and  picturesque  ruins.  Near  by  are 
the  roniains  of  the  high  altar  of  the  abbey,  and  the  defaced  and 
mouldering  tombs  of  several  long-forgotten  worthies.     The  in- 


199 

scription  to  the   memory  of   the  novelist  is   brief   in    the   ex- 
treme : — 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  Baronet, 
Died  Sept.  21,  A.  D.  1832. 

It  is  as  plain  as  the  stone  on  which  it  is  engraved,  but  still 
suflScient  for  the  place.  His  works  are  his  epitaph,  and  there  is 
not  a  line  in  them  that  his  friends  would  wish  erased.  Over  the 
remains  of  his  wife  is  a  longer  record,  and  one  in  all  things  ap- 
propriate : — - 

Dame  Charlotte  Margaret  Carpenter, 

"Wife  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  of  Abbotsford,  Baronet.     Died  at 

Abbotsford,  May  15,  A.  D.  1826. 

The  soldier  is  buried  in  front,  and  the  three  solitary  graves 
have  a  solemn  appearance,  situated  as  they  are  within  the  crum- 
bling walls  of  that  old  fane.  I  was  alone,  and  as  the  day  was 
cloudy,  a  pleasant  gloom  settled  over  the  landscape,  and  the  sky 
appeared  as  if  the  sun  would  go  down  veiled.  While  I  stood 
within  the  ruins  and  near  the  tombs,  the  struggling  rays  of  the 
splendid  orb  broke  in  glory  through  the  misty  veil,  and  flung  a 
shower  of  golden  light  upon  the  massive  walls  and  through  the 
deserted  aisles,  I  never  witnessed  a  more  gorgeous  scene.  The 
ivy  leaves,  and  mullioned  windows,  and  rich  old  trees  were  bathed 
and  tipped  and  tinged  with  golden  flame ;  and  the  grass  in  the 
high  altar-place  and  fallen  transept  sparkled  with  liquid  light. 
The  arrowy  Tweed's  soft  murmurs  came  up  upon  the  evening 
breeze,  and  as  the  winds  crept  through  the  thick  foliage  of  the 
trees  and  ivy  veil  that  curtained  the  windows,  the  scene  was  all 
enchantment,  and  I  stood  enraptured  with  the  view.  It  wa^a 
thing  of  beauty,  and  poor  Keats  tells  us  that  "  is  a  joy  forever.'' 
I  will  remember  the  scene  till  the  latest  hour  of  my  existence, 
for  it  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  There  were  the  streaming 
rays  of  the  sun  darting  through  the  foliaged  oriel  in  the  nave, 
and  falling  in  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  velvet  floor,  while  the  dark 
shadows  of  the  massive  walls  rested  in  solemn  beauty  on  the 
tomb  of  Scott.     It  was  a  scene  for  a  pilgrim,  and  a  double  glory 


200  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HTOHWAY; 

for  one  wbo  had  come  so  far.  I  waited  an  hour  contemplating 
the  ruin  and  the  splendor  of  the  setting  sun,  and  wished  for  Ra- 
phael's matchless  art,  to  grasp  in  tints  and  massive  lights  and 
shades  the  wondrous  view.  The  bright  rays  slowly  faded  out, 
and  one  by  one  they  gradually  expired,  and  then  over  ruined 
aisle,  and  broken  wall,  and  solemn  tower,  fell  night's  shadows 
gray  and  silence  still  as  death  !  I  turned  from  the  spot,  and  re- 
traced my  steps  to  Melrose,  meditating  upon  the  glorious  scene. 
But  the  day,  so  rich  in  the  wonderful  to  me,  was  not  destined  to 
close  with  the  splendid  sight  I  had  witnessed  at  Drybiirgh.  When 
I  returned  to  the  village,  the  night  was  well  advanced,  and  the 
moon  was  gradually  rising,  though  veiled  in  mist.  When  all 
was  still,  I  went  to  the  old  abbey.  As  I  passed  through  the  vil- 
lage, my  tread  echoed  along  its  deserted  street,  and  through  the  tall 
and  solitary  market  cross,  and  reminded  me  that  I  was  alone. 
The  ruin  is  surrounded  by  a  wall,  but  I  scaled  it  and  stood  with- 
in the  inclosure  among  the  graves  of  dead  men,  and  along-side 
the  monastic  fane.  The  moon's  rays  were  no  longer  obscured, 
but  fell  in  a  flood  of  silver  light  upon  chancel,  tower,  and  richly 
carved  muUion,  and  streamed  broad  through  the  great  east  win- 
dow over  the  altar-place.  While  I  stood  in  the  Golgotha,  the 
clock-bell,  which  swings  in  a  tower  over  the  south  end  of  the 
transept,  struck  the  passing  hour.  Its  sudden  and  unexpected 
chime  startled  me  on  the  instant;  but  it  is  proper  that  an  iron 
sentinel  should,  from  the  solemn  belfry  of  that  old  pile,  proclaim 
the  flight  of  time !  After  the  sounds  had  died  away,  and  Hhc 
echoes  had  sung  a  requiem  through  the  aisles,  my  mind  invested 
the  place  with  life ;  and  imagination,  aided  by  the  hour  and  scene, 
summoned  up  a  train  of  cowled  monks  and  white-robed  nuns,  who 
seemed  to  pass  in  long  array  before  me.  Slowly  their  midnight 
hymn  went  up,  and  the  lengthened  throng,  with  smoking  censors, 
swinging  slow,  filed  along  the  velvet  sward,  and  marched  within 
the  splendid  fane.  I  watched  the  last  one  disappear,  and  a  cloud, 
hiding  the  face  of  the  moon  for  a  time,  dispelled  the  idle  vision, 
and  I  stood  in  darkness  within  the  shade  of  Mclroso  Abbey. 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  201 


CHAPTER    XX. 

ALNWICK  CASTLE  AND  YORK  MINSTER. 

Almost  the  entire  country  from  Edinburgh  to  Newcastle- 
upon-Tjne  abounds  in  ruined  abbeys,  castles,  and  monasteries. 
At  Kelso  is  a  fallen  fane  of  the  olden  monks ;  at  Norham,  a  fine 
ruin  of  an  ancient  castle ;  and  at  Berwick-on-Tweed,  the  remains 
of  the  walls  which  once  inclosed  the  town.  This  last-mentioned 
place  is  situate  on  the  north  bank  of  the  boundary  river,  within 
sight  of  the  German  Ocean,  and  is  remarkable  at  present  for 
nothing  beyond  its  crooked,  narrow,  and  filthy  streets,  and  a 
splendid  railway  bridge  which  spans  the  Tweed.  The  country 
immediately  adjacent  to  it  is  rather  poor,  but  a  few  miles  inland 
the  soil  is  very  fair  and  productive.  When  I  passed  through,  the 
grain  was  ripe,  and  men  and  women  were  busily  engaged  in  reap- 
ing. As  many  as  one  hundred  persons  were  working  together  in  a 
field,  and  they  looked  like  a  small  army  gathering  the  harvest  of 
plenty.  The  greater  part  of  them  were  Irish,  who  had  crossed 
from  their  own  island  for  the  purpose  of  aiding  the  farmers  in 
securing  their  crops,  and  earning  something  towards  the  support 
of  their  families. 

A  railway  connects  Berwick  with  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  and 
lies  within  sight  of  the  ocean  nearly  the  entire  distance,  but 
affords  no  very  fine  views  either  by  land  or  sea.  I  rested  awhile 
at  Alnwick,  in  Northumberland,  celebrated  for  its  fine  castle, 
renowned  as  the  "  home  of  the  Percy's  high-born  race."  The 
town  is  neither  large  nor  handsome,  but  it  is  interesting,  and 
abounds  in  monuments  of  the  ancient  day.  The  entrance  to  the 
principal  street  is  through  a  solid  and  massive  gateway,  erected 
by  Hotspur,  the  best  and  bravest  of  the  Percys;  and  in  the  lands 
connected  with  the  estates  of  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  are 
the  ruins  of  two  abbeys,  and  one  or  two  crosses  to  mark  places 


202  THE  FOOXrATH  AND  UIQIIWAY  ; 

on  which  noble  warriors  died  when  engaged  in  attacks  upon  the 
fortitied  castle,  the  main  attraction  of  the  town.  I  presented 
^yself  at  the  gate,  and  was  admitted  within  the  walls  of  the 
enormous  structure.  It  is  built  entirely  of  freestone,  in  the 
Gothic  style  of  architecture,  and  consists  of  three  quadrangles 
inclosing  a  space  of  five  acres.  The  walls  are  ornamented  with 
battlements  and  turrets,  and  sixteen  towers  adorn  the  edifice,  on 
each  of  which  stands  a  figure  in  armor  in  an  attitude  of  defence. 
Next  to  Windsor  it  is  the  most  extensive  edifice  in  England,  and 
the  internal  embellishments  and  furniture  are  in  character  with 
its  size  and  magnificence.  The  country  around  is  extremely 
picturesque,  and  the  greenest  of  swards  gradually  slopes  from  the 
outer  walls  of  the  structure  on  the  north  to  the  quiet  and  pellucid 
Alne.  I  was  blest  with  a  pretty  girl  for  a  guide,  and  she  led 
me  through  the  large  halls  and  splendid  rooms  of  the  aristocratic 
mansion,  and  around  the  strong  battlements  and  frowning  towers 
of  the  building,  and  showed  me  the  wonders  of  the  place,  from 
the  armory  which  glitters  with  implements  of  strife  hoarded  up 
from  the  time  of  Hotspur,  when  the  court-yard  below 

**  Echoed  to  the  light  step  of  the  soldier's  march, 
The  music  of  the  trump  and  drum," 

to  the  gloomy  cells  of  the  donjon-keep  in  which  prisoners  were  in- 
carcerated of  yoro.  My  bright-eyed  companion  almost  taught  mo 
love,  and  when  she  conducted  me  to  Hotspur's  favorite  bower, 
and  told  me  it  was  there  that  the  fiery  warrior  wooed  and  won 
"  his  gentle  Kate,  a  thousand  years  ago,"  I  was  more  than  half 
inclined  to  turn  Hotspur  myself,  and  woo  the  pretty  maiden  of 
the  ducal  palace.  She  was  so  fascinating,  so  modest,  and  so  lady- 
like withal. 

The  old  church  of  St.  Mary's,  in  the  town,  contains  the  tombs 
of  the  Percy  family  for  generations  past,  and  the  walls  arc  hung 
with  the  tattered  banners  of  that  house.  The  musty  emblems  of 
war  are  rapidly  falling  to  pieces,  and  the  gilding  which  embellishes 
them  is  fading  away.  Dust  covers  the  banners  of  Hotspur,  and 
the  unliftcd  spears  and  armorial  bearings  which  surround  them 
are  all  that  remain  at  present  of  their  valiant  defenders.     What 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  203 

a  singular  notion  that  is  of  displaying  warlike  standards  in  temples 
dedicated  to  the  religion  of  the  "Prince  of  Peace!''  It  looks 
much  like  an  attempt  to  ridicule  Christianity  in  its  very  altar- 
places. 

I  did  not  remain  long  in  Alnwick  after  viewing  the  castle,  but 
continued  on  to  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  and  passed  a  night  in  that 
place.  There  are  some  streets  in  the  Coal  Metropolis  which  are 
wide  and  elegant,  and  some  buildings  that  are  handsome,  but  the 
greater  part  of  the  city  is  filthy  and  forbidding.  The  streets  in 
the  unfashionable  sections  are  dirty,  crooked,  steep,  and  black  as 
night.  The  people  are  either  covered  with  coal  dust  or  pale  and 
sickly  in  appearance,  and  their  condition  generally  does  not  im- 
press a  person  favorably.  I  visited  one  of  the  pits  about  eight 
miles  from  town,  but  cannot  say  that  I  derived  either  pleasure  or 
profit  from  my  trip.  Children  are  employed  in  the  sunless  caves 
as  well  as  men  and  women,  and  all  are  vulgar  and  ill-mannered, 
and  appear  to  consider  a  visitor  fair  game  to  practice  extortion 
upon.  Little  boys  pulled  at  one  side  and  asked  for  pence,  while 
men  bowed  obsequiously  for  a  shilling  to  purchase  beer.  Our 
company  of  three  paid  handsomely  for  the  privilege  of  being 
covered  with  coal  dust;  and  taking  the  expenses  of  guide,  over- 
clothing,  and  fees  to  the  workmen  together,  got  off  with  about 
five  dollars  in  all — a  pretty  fair  sum  for  gratifying  our  laudable 
curiosity  in  a  Newcastle  coal  mine.  But  the  shilling  is  all  potent 
in  England.  It  opens  churches  and  towers — swings  back  the 
ponderous  gates  of  the  castle — introduces  the  stranger  into  the 
sacred  places  of  old,  abbeys  and  convents — and  bows  the  possessor 
obsequiously  through  the  palaces  of  the  nobles  of  the  realm.  It 
leads  to  decayed  ruins,  and  gains  information  respecting  wonder- 
ful places.  Its  glittering  visage  begets  hospitality  and  civility, 
and  opens  to  its  lucky  owner  the  richest  galleries  of  ancient  and 
modern  art.  It  wins  esteem  and  commands  respect,  attracts  ob- 
servation and  hides  defects.  It  opens  the  doors  of  prohibited 
places  and  reveals  the  secret  recesses  in  donjon-cells  and  keeps — 
it  imparts  knowledge  and  confers  honor — and  covers  a  multitude 
of  sins.     It  is  a  subject  of  worship,  and  receives  the  adoration  of 


204  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  IIIGUWAY; 

the  bishop  as  well  as  the  admiration  of  the  tradesman.    In  a  word, 
it  is  sovereign,  and  doubly  blest  is  he  who 

**In  silken  or  in  leathern  purse  retains 
A  splendid  sLilling." 


York  is  a  wonderful  city  —  one  rich  in  churches,  ruins, 
and  Gothic  fanes.  Thick  walls  —  strong  and  turreted  —  with 
towers  and  battlements — almost  encircle  it,  and  afford  a  splendid 
promenade.  The  lliver  Ouse  flows  through  the  town,  but,  as  it 
differs  from  most  of  the  English  streams  in  being  clear,  it  gives 
variety  and  charm  to  the  quaint  old  city.  The  Minster  is  the 
wonder,  but  I  deferred  my  visit  to  its  soaring  towers  and  impres- 
sive aisles  until  I  had  seen  the  less  admired  churches  within  the 
city  walls.  First  along  the  crooked  streets — so  narrow,  so  ser- 
pentine, so  mazy  in  their  labyrinthine  windings — but  still  so 
strange  and  winning,  so  quiet  and  so  dreamy,  that  on  you  go 
regardless  where  you  may  be  conducted,  or  indifferent  as  to  what 
old  shrine  you  stumble  on,  or  to  what  ruined  castle  or  abbey  wall 
your  steps  may  be  directed.  On  one  side  a  lane  invites  you  to 
explore  its  wonders  and  admire  its  strange  old  structures.  You 
enter,  and  follow  a  sort  of  mental  ujnis  /atuuHf  which  leads  you 
forward  step  by  step,  until  you  are  almost  bewildered  with  the 
circling  promenade  you  have  had,  and  the  happiness  of  soul  you 
have  felt  in  traversing  a  street  in  the  fair  and  goodly  city.  I  was 
filled  with  admiration  for  the  place,  and  was  half  inclined  to  take 
for  granted  that  there  was  nothing  but  pure  religion  in  its 
churches  until  I  entered  one.  It  was  a  splendid  shrine,  with  an 
air  of  solemnity  around  it  that  exacted  reverence.  The  subdued 
sunbeams  faintly  struggled  through  its  glass  of  brilliant  coloring, 
and  diffused  through  the  interior  the  ''dim  religious  light"  of 
which  Milton  so  sweetly  speaks. 

A  jockey i.sh  parson  was  reading  the  impressive  burial-service 
over  the  body  of  an  infant  as  I  entered;  ho  turned  his  sickly, 
calf-like  eyes  upon  me  as  I  stepped  into  the  aisle,  and  drawled 
out  the  beautiful  language  of  the  ceremony  in  a  spiritless,  soulless 
strain  that  made  mo  think  ho  would  rather  be  present  at  the  horse- 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  205 

race  near  at  hand  than  in  the  pulpit  where  he  stood.  He  was  the 
veriest  burlesque  of  a  clergyman  I  ever  saw,  and  disgusted  me 
with  his  unbecoming  conduct.  I  could  not  tolerate  him,  and 
withdrew  to  view  other  buildings,  although  the  one  in  which  he 
officiated  was  beautiful,  and  would  have  detained  me  longer  had 
he  acted  more  in  character  with  his  calling.  He  certainly  did 
not  please  me. 

We  require  variety  to  form  contrast;  without  it,  all  would  be 
dull  and  unprofitable ;  with  it  the  really  sublime  becomes  inspiring, 
and  we  drink  in  the  inspiration  of  the  glorious  with  eagerness  and 
pleasure.  I  wended  my  way  to  the  Minster,  the  most  wonderful 
evidence  of  the  monkish  supremacy,  and  the  most  commanding 
edifice  in  England.  Externally  it  is  marked  with  decay,  and  time 
has  defaced  the  walls  and  discolored  the  stone — but  there  is  the 
structure  with  its  splendid  windows,  its  lofty  towers,  and  its 
magnificent  front.  It  is  a  proud  monument  of  the  past,  and  its 
harmonious  proportions,  rich  details,  and  great  magnitude  com- 
mand silence  and  admiration,  and  cause  the  beholder  to  stand  un- 
covered unconsciously  before  it.  Reverent  regard  for  the  men 
who  designed  the  splendid  edifice  is  entertained  by  every  specta- 
tor, and  it  is  wonderful  to  see  the  ignorant  rustic  in  an  attitude  of 
awe  and  admiration  gazing  up  to  its  beauties.  But  enough  of  the 
exterior.  Let  us  go  within  its  walls.  How  high,  solemn,  and 
impressive  is  the  glorious  transept.  Look  away  into  the  distant 
perspective,  on  to  that  gorgeous  window — it  glows  with  all  the 
colors  known  to  man — that  is  ideal  sublimity  realized!  Now 
turn  your  gaze  up,  along  those  perfect  Gothic  columns,  and  let  the 
eye  follow  them  to  the  very  roof  of  heaven,  as  it  were,  where  the 
graceful  arches  meet  in  beauty.  Two  hundred  feet  above  your 
bead  soars  the  tower  roof.  The  eye  never  tires  at  that  pageant, 
nor  does  the  scene  pall  upon  the  mind.  It  elevates  the  soul,  and 
lifts  it  high  above  the  cares,  and  anxieties,  and  dross  of  this  poor 
world.  There's  religion  in  this  fane,  and  those  noble  aisles  and 
towering  walls  proclaim  it.  That  nave  is  a  wonder  of  itself,  and 
the  great  window  in  the  centre  is  like  the  concave  sky  in  the 
coloring  of  a  rich  sunset,  diffused  with  gold  and  emerald,  topaz 
and  amethyst,  ruby  and  sapphire  dyes.  But  look  at  this  altar 
18 


206  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

screen,  a  holy  temple  like  to  that  of  proud  Jerusalem,  and,  as  I 
live,  all  sculptured  stone.  Why,  a  whole  century  must  have  been 
consumed  in  creating  this.  Those  solemn  monarchs  appear  like 
petrified  men,  not  sculptured  figures!  But  look  above  them. 
There's  a  dense  throng  of  angels,  each  with  timbrel  or  celestial 
reed  and  face  expressive  of  most  heavenly  peace,  chanting  the 
praise  of  Him  who  reigns  forever !  How  numerous  they  are ! 
How  perfect  in  their  attitudes  and  forms,  and  how  appropriate  to 
the  place  in  which  they  stand !  It's  right  to  call  them  the  Angelic 
Choir !  But  come ;  we'll  engage  that  verger  to  guide  us  through 
the  fane — down  into  the  crypt — to  the  chapter-house — to  the 
chancels,  and,  if  you  will,  around  among  the  musty  tombs  of  long- 
forgotten  and  nameless  prelates  of  the  church,  who  flourished 
here  when  this  proud  shrine  was  Rome's. 

The  chapel  rivets  attention,  and  commands  silence.  Some  years 
ago,  a  lunatic  set  fire  to  this  portion  of  the  building,  and  destroyed 
the  greater  part  of  the  interior.  The  great  east  window  was  saved 
from  the  flames,  and  thanks  for  its  preservation.  It  is  regarded 
as  one  of  the  most  perfect  and  imposing  specimens  of  cathedral 
decorations  we  have  left  us,  and  not  improperly.  It  is  seventy-five 
feet  high,  and  about  thirty-five  in  width  at  the  base,  and  the  ma- 
sonry and  the  design  of  the  details  are  in  character  with  the 
magnitude  and  gorgeousness  of  the  splendid  ornament.  There  is 
a  gallery  across  it,  midway  up,  which  is  four  feet  wide;  but  it  looks 
so  small,  when  viewed  from  the  floor  of  the  chapel,  that  no  one 
would  know  that  it  was  a  gallery  if  he  were  not  told.  It  has  the 
appearance  of  a  sash  or  mullion.  The  organ  is  the  largest  in  the 
world,  and  contains  eight  thousand  tubes  and  eighty  stops. 
Around  the  choir,  to  the  right  and  left,  arc  the  stalls  of  the  pre- 
bendaries; and  in  front  of  the  great  east  window,  in  the  same 
section  of  the  edifice,  is  the  archbishop's  throne,  in  ornament  as 
costly  and  elegant  as  that  of  a  sovereign.  To  the  east  of  the 
choir  is  the  "  Lady  Chapel ;"  but  it  is  remarkable  only  for  its 
tombs.  <'  That  is  a  monument  to  Sir  George  Saville,"  said  the 
verger,  "  a  native  of  York,  who  used  his  utmost  endeavors  to  put 
an  end  to  the  American  war.  He  holds  a  scroll  in  his  hand,  on 
which  is  engraved  the  petition  he  presented  to  the  throne  against 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  207 

that  unnatural  and  unjust  crusade.  I  always  show  that  to  your 
countrymen,  and  I  know  you  are  an  American/'  he  concluded, 
with  an  inquiring  air.  I  assented,  and  1^  became  more  obliging, 
and  conducted  us  to  the  musty  crypt,  and  several  Roman  sar- 
cophagi, recently  found  in  the  vicinity  of  York ;  for  the  old  city 
was  for  four  hundred  years  a  Roman  military  station,  and  here  one 
of  the  emperors,  Constantino  the  Great,  was  born. 

During  the  great  civil  wars,  the  Parliamentary  troops  occupied 
the  building  as  a  barracks,  and  the  verger  took  especial  pains  to 
point  out  the  injuries  inflicted  by  the  soldiers  on  the  edifice  at  that 
time.  ^'  These  niches,"  said  he,  "  were  adorned  with  statues  of 
saints;  but  as  the  Puritans  did  not  admire  such  ornaments,  they 
destroyed  them.  These  large  coffers  were  made  for  carrying  off 
the  valuables  of  the  church,  when  the  troops  withdrew,  and  Crom- 
well was  not  satisfied  with  the  gold  and  silver,  but  took  away 
the  lead  and  brass  which  adorned  the  Minster,  for  the  purpose  of 
converting  them  into  ammunition.  He  injured  nearly  every  ca- 
thedral and  abbey  in  England.'' 

I  told  the  guide  that  I  greatly  esteemed  Oliver,  and  considered 
him  by  far  the  greatest  man,  both  as  a  statesman  and  a  general, 
that  Great  Britain  ever  produced.  He  appeared  to  regard  me  as 
heretical,  and  was  not  half  so  obliging  afterwards. 

The  chapter-house  is  a  most  magnificent  part  of  the  edifice,  and 
it  has  recently  been  restored  and  beautified.  It  is  octagonal,  and 
each  side,  except  the  entrance,  contains  a  window  of  richly  stained 
glass,  while  the  walls  are  ornamented  with  scroll-work,  very  ela- 
borately executed.  The  whole  circumference  below  the  windows, 
excepting  the  segment  containing  the  door,  is  occupied  hy  forty- 
four  canopied  stalls  for  the  canons,  who  compose  the  chapter  of 
the  cathedral,  each  of  which  is  decorated  profusely  with  sculp- 
ture. The  roof  is  simple,  but  elegant;  and  the  floor  is  gorgeously 
inlaid  with  encaustic  tiles,  a  most  beautiful  method  of  ornament- 
ing an  edifice.  The  softened  light  diffused  through  the  place 
gives  it  a  sacred  air,  and  impresses  the  visitor  with  a  sense  of  re- 
verence. 

In  the  transepts,  both  north  and  south,  of  the  main  building, 
are  tombs,  on  which  rest  full  length  marble  eflSgies  of  the  dead. 


208  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  nianwAY; 

Some  are  black  with  age,  and  conjecture  only  attempts  to  say  who 
the  nameless  occupants  are.  It  matters  but  little  who  rests  under 
the  monuments,  the  ga^r  is  indifferent  as  to  that,  and  is  more 
delighted  in  looking  at  the  marble  figures  which  adorn  them  than 
curious  to  learn  to  whom  they  were  erected.  While  standing  in 
the  nave,  I  was  unexpectedly  joined  by  the  young  German  whose 
acquaintance  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  make  in  Scotland,  and  re- 
mained some  time  with  him  admiring  the  glorious  structure. 
While  we  were  together,  silent  spectators  of  the  splendid  nave 
and  aisles,  the  Minster  chime  rang  wildly  out  to  the  bright  sky, 
and  filled  the  immense  vault  with  melodious  sound.  The  great 
heavy  bell  of  the  cathedral  joined  in  the  iron  clangor,  and  the 
air  vibrated  and  rolled  as  waves  to  its  deafening  tones.  It  was 
grand — that  chime  in  York  Minster. 

We  visited  the  ruins  of  St.  Mary's  Abbey,  one  of  the  greatest 
attractions  in  York,  after  we  had  passed  around  the  splendid 
Minster.  The  north  wall  of  the  nave  of  the  church  is  all  that 
remains  of  the  once  extensive  structure,  for  it  was,  when  entire, 
almost  as  large  as  the  cathedral.  Eight  windows  adorn  it,  but 
the  mullions  are  gone,  and  the  wall  is  nearly  covered  with  ivy. 
In  the  same  inclosurc  are  the  ruins  of  a  Roman  fortification,  and 
the  York  Museum ;  but  as  the  abbey  walls  are  the  sole  attraction 
for  the  stranger,  the  cupidity  of  the  owners  extracts  a  shilling 
from  the  pocket  of  each  visitor  for  the  privilege  of  looking  at  the 
fragments  of  the  ruined  Papal  shrine.  The  English  talk  to  us  of 
a  desire  for  gain,  and  pretend  to  think  that  no  people  in  the  world 
covet  money  more  than  the  Americans,  when  they  themselves  take 
from  travellers  at  every  turn,  and  demand  pay  for  exhibiting  the 
most  trifling  articles,  and  the  most  sacred  places.  In  the  conser- 
vatory connected  with  the  Museum,  there  was  a  Victoria  Rtgia^ 
and  the  owners  modestly  asked  an  additional  sixpence  from  each 
person  for  the  privilege  of  looking  at  that  single  plant. 

My  German  friend  had  a  young  architect  with  him  who  was 
an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  ecclesiastical  edifices  of  York. 
Ilis  sketch-book  was  embellished  with  several  exquisite  drawings 
of  the  Minster,  and  churches  of  the  place,  besides  a  number  made 
in  Wales  and  Scotland.     Wo  took  an  evening  walk  along  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OE  AN  AMERICAN.  209 

walls  of  the  city,  from  which  we  enjoyed  some  fine  views  of  the 
old  Roman  stronghold.  Our  artist  added  a  fine  picture  of  the 
town  to  his  collection  of  sketches,  while  we  took  pleasure  in  the 
scenery.  Large  gates  span  the  entrance  to  the  principal  streets, 
and  the  towers  and  battlements  along  the  inclosure  give  the  town 
the  appearance  of  being  inclosed  by  extensive  fortifications. 
Church  spires  rise  in  every  quarter,  and  the  ruined  tower  of  the 
castle  frowns  down  upon  the  quaint  city,  while  over  all  rises, 
like  a  stately  and  majestic  giant,  the  immense  form  of  the 
glorious  and  indescribable  Minster. 

During  my  stay,  the  York  races  came  off,  and  thousands  of 
sportsmen  were  present.  Betting,  boasting,  gambling,  and  drink- 
ing were  the  order  of  the  day,  and  night  closed  over  a  scene  of 
prolonged  debauchery.  The  streets  were  filled  with  pedestrians, 
and  at  the  corners  men  were  to  be  seen  singing  in  stupid  strains 
and  verse  the  achievements  of  the  winning  horse.  Ballad-singers, 
candy-women,  and  itinerant  dealers  generally  mingled  in  the 
throng,  and  the  moral  influences  of  a  horse-race  were  exhibited 
in  the  streets  of  York.  A  swaggering  rider  bet  on  his  favorite 
filly,  and  staked  his  shillings  with  as  much  consequence  as  his 
master  did  his  pounds;  and  the  successful  gamblers  fleeced  the 
stupid  clowns.  London  sent  her  delegates  of  ''the  Fancy;" 
and  the  tradesmen  and  innkeepers  of  the  town  made  a  good 
harvest  of  the  "  meeting,"  as  they  term  the  racing.  These  black- 
guard gatherings  are  demoralizing  and  pestilential  in  their  effects; 
but  England  loves  to  encourage  both  horse-racing  and  ring-fights, 
and,  when  the  wealthy  in  most  instances  support  and  foster  these 
branches  of  popular  education,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  poor 
and  ignorant  take  pride  in  witnessing  the  sport,  and  keeping 
holiday,  when  occasion  permits. 

Having  satisfied  my  curiosity  at  the  antique  city  of  York, 
I  availed  myself  of  a  cheap  excursion  train  to  the  metropolis, 
and  set  out  in  company  with  my  German  friends,  through  a 
country  rich  in  yellow  grain  ready  for  the  sickle,  and  over  a  por- 
tion of  the  dreary  wolds  of  Yorkshire.  We  made  a  short  stop 
at  Doncaster,  and  then  dashed  on  to  Lincoln.     Miles  before  we 


210  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

reached  that  city,  we  obtained  a  sight  of  its  lofty  and  imposing 
cathedral  and  stately  castle.  Both  buildings  stand  on  an  eminence, 
and  command  a  prospect  of  great  extent.  The  beautiful  Gothic 
fane  is  not  surrounded  by  houses,  and  consequently  affords  a 
splendid  view.  A  stay  of  twenty  minutes  enabled  us  to  run  up 
the  hill  on  which  it  stands,  and  walk  around  the  structure. 
Niches,  now  saintless,  and  rich  carvings  embellish  its  external 
walls,  and  around  it  spreads  a  velvety  sward,  as  soft  to  the  tread 
as  a  rich  carpet.  Portions  of  the  old  walls  which  once  inclosed 
the  city  still  remain,  and  one  or  two  gateways  span  as  many 
streets.  The  city  is  not  large,  nor  is  it  very  handsome,  but  it 
has  many  attractions  for  the  stranger,  and  is  well  worth  a  visit. 
A  stay  of  a  few  minutes  allowed  no  time  for  an  examination  into 
the  habits  and  condition  of  the  inhabitants,  and  not  sufficient  for 
a  look  at  its  principal  structures. 

From  Lincoln  to  Peterborough  the  road  lay  through  the  re- 
claimed fens,  one  of  the  most  fertile  and  productive  grain  countries 
in  the  world,  and  as  the  crops  were  ripe  for  harvest,  we  saw 
numbers  of  people  in  the  fields  reaping.  Women  and  fair  young 
girls  were  engaged  in  this  rural  labor,  and  many  a  bright  eye 
glanced  at  our  lengthened  train  as  it  pursued  its  iron  way. 

The  country  is  almost  a  dead  level,  and  at  no  remote  bygone 
period  was  a  vast  and  useless  swamp.  Now,  thanks  to  science  in 
mechanics  and  agriculture,  the  whole  surface  is  drained  tho- 
roughly, and  fields  of  waving  grain,  and  numerous  farm-houses, 
and  villages  and  cities  abound  throughout  the  district.  The 
system  of  drainage  is  most  excellent,  and  the  same  that  is  used 
generally  in  England  and  Scotland.  Large  ditches  are  cut  through 
certain  parts  of  the  land,  and  some  of  them  are  so  extensive  as 
to  greatly  resemble  canals.  Into  these  flows  the  drainage  of  the 
land,  which  is  conducted  through  earthen  pipes,  laid  under 
ground,  in  almost  every  field.  The  only  comparison  I  can  make, 
by  which  a  correct  idea  of  the  plan  can  be  imparted  to  others 
who  have  not  seen  it,  is  to  say  that  the  system  is  the  same  for 
drainage  here  as  that  used  for  supplying  water  to  the  city  of 
IMiiladolphia.  No  conduits  are  seen — all  arc  under  ground,  and 
the  water  is  conducted  from   tlie  surface  in,to  small  reservoirs, 


211 

which  lead  to  the  pipes,  and  through  these  pipes  into  the  large 
canals,  and  then  into  the  natural  streams.  Some  of  the  rivers  are 
embanked  to  prevent  overflows,  and  the  country  reminds  one  of 
Holland,  where  they  "  scoop  out  the  sea,  and  usurp  the  shore." 

We  made  a  short  stop  at  Boston,  in  Lincolnshire,  a  considerable 
town  near  the  sea-coast,  and  had  time  to  see  its  famous  church, 
the  spire  on  which  is  three  hundred  feet  high,  and  can  be  seen  at 
a  distance  of  forty  miles  in  clear  weather.  Nearly  all  the  cities, 
in  this  section  of  England,  boast  a  cathedral  or  other  noble  eccle- 
siastical edifice,  and  every  village  has  its  Gothic  church  and  soar- 
ing tower  and  spire. 

By  the  time  we  arrived  at  Boston,  our  company  had  grown  so- 
ciable and  mutually  entertaining.  The  young  ladies  were  agree- 
able and — pretty.  The  Germans  were  polite  and  gentlemanly, 
and  chatted  English  intelligibly  enough.  The  Englishmen  relaxed 
their  usual  stiffness,  and  joined  freely  in  the  conversation.  I,  as 
the  representative  of  young  America,  came  in  for  an  occasional 
rub  about  slavery  and  our  territorial  acquisitions,  and  the  show 
we  made  at  the  Exhibition;  I  laughed  at  their  jokes,  and,  as  the 
yacht  "  America''  had  just  beaten  the  whole  fancy  fleet  of  such 
English  craft  at  Cowes  with  ease,  I  had  some  show  for  fight,  and 
did  not  hesitate  about  exulting  at  the  achievement  of  my  country- 
men. I  intimated  to  them  that  Jonathan  would  play  them  a 
Yankee  trick  yet,  and  take  the  conceit  out  of  the  nation  in  more 
things  than  building  ships,  and  they  had  the  candor  to  acknow- 
ledge that  it  was  very  likely  he  would.  The  time  passed  away 
pleasantly  as  we  fled  through  the  counties  of  Lincoln  and  North- 
ampton, and,  in  fact,  during  the  entire  journey.  At  Peterborough 
we  made  another  half  hour's  stay,  and  looked  at  its  hale  ca- 
thedral, the  burial-place  of  Catharine  of  Arragon,  and,  for  a  time, 
of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  who,  it  appears,  was  not  even  allowed 
repose  in  death,  and  she  was  afterwards  removed  from  Peterbo- 
rough to  Westminster  Abbey.  As  we  approached  the  modern 
Babylon,  the  country  became  more  hilly,  and  parks  more  numerous. 

Our  route  lay  through  a  number  of  old  and  remarkable  towns, 
among  which  were  Huntingdon,  the  birthplace  of  Cromwell,  and 
Bedford,  the  place  in  which  Bunyan  wrote  his  '^  Pilgrim's  Progress," 


212  TUE  FOOTPATH  AND  UIGUWAY; 

and  near  which  city  ho  was  born.  Hertford,  and  Barnet,  a  town 
celebrated  for  a  fight  which  took  place  near  it  during  the  wars  of 
the  Roses,  in  which  the  great  Earl  of  Warwick  fell,  were  success- 
ively passed;  and  then  we  pressed  on  to  the  great  city,  which  we 
entered  after  night  in  the  bustle  and  confusion  incident  to  the 
arrival  of  an  immense  train  within  its  bounds.  I  parted  for  the 
time  with  my  German  friends  and  travelling  companions,  and 
wended  my  way  along  the  crowded  thoroughfares  of  the  metro- 
polis to  my  former  lodgings.  Thousands  of  people  thronged  the 
streets,  and  the  black  smoke  obscured  the  stars  and  moon — the 
atmosphere  was  not  that  of  the  country,  nor  the  inhabitants  liko 
those  of  the  smaller  cities.  As  I  passed  the  numerous  gin-palaces 
on  my  route,  the  fumes  of  liquor  impregnated  the  air,  and  the 
dazzling  light  from  the  windows  of  these  sinks  of  iniquity  flared 
broad  in  the  streets,  and  contrasted  strongly  with  the  dark  slums 
and  back  lanes  which  lay  in  my  walk.  Degraded  men  and  women 
crowded  the  bar-rooms  of  the  poison  palaces,  and  the  atmosphere 
was  thick  with  smoke  and  the  fumes  of  gin.  I  pressed  on,  and 
gained  my  destination,  where  I  met  a  hearty  and  sincere  wel- 
come home;  still,  I  could  not  divest  my  mind  of  thoughts  con- 
cerning the  scenes  I  had  just  witnessed — ^the  change  from  the 
rural  to  the  metropolitan  life  was  so  great.  Surely  enough,  "  God 
made  the  country,  man  made  the  town.'' 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

LONDON — NORTHUMBERLAND  HOUSE — HAMITON  COURT — 
MADAME  TAUSSAUD's — VERNON  GALLERY,  ETC. 

The  metropolis  of  England  is  uuliko  any  other  city  in  the 
world;  it  has  no  counterpart,  no  imitation.  lis  great  magni- 
tude, its  busy  throngs,  its  sombre  aspect,  its  squalid  misery,  and 
matchless  splendor,  alike  defy  description  and  claim  observation. 
A  writer  may  throw  a  few  sketches  of  it  together,  and  call  them 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  213 

a  picture  of  London ;  but  he  who  examines  the  tableau  will  de- 
tect its  many  defects,  and  expose  its  inaccuracies.  No  one  can 
convey  to  the  mind  of  another,  by  means  of  words,  a  correct  idea 
of  its  wonders  and  peculiarities;  nor  is  it  possible  for  a  reader  to 
comprehend  its  greatness  and  its  poverty,  its  glory  and  its  shame. 
I  was  as  much  a  stranger  in  it  on  my  second  visit  as  at  my  first ; 
and  threaded  its  thoroughfares,  eager  to  behold  its  curiosities,  and 
admire  its  many  attractions.  There  was  an  endless  throng  of  con- 
veyances and  pedestrians  in  the  streets,  the  noise  from  which  was 
ceaseless  and  stunning.  Carriages  dashed  past,  bearing  the  wealthy 
on  to  the  abodes  of  luxury,  while  shoeless  men  and  women  roamed 
the  sideways,  begging  the  passers-by  to  purchase  of  their  stock  of 
wares — a  cane,  a  knife,  a  dancing- spider,  or  some  other  useless 
toy. 

The  Great  Exhibition  was  still  in  existence,  and  crowds  from 
the  provinces,  as  well  as  thousands  of  foreigners,  had  taken  up 
their  temporary  abode  in  the  royal  city.  New  attractions  had  been 
added  to  the  many  already  designed  for  the  edification  and  delight 
of  the  people,  and  the  Duke  of  Northumberland,  with  a  praise- 
worthy liberality,  worthy  honorable  mention,  had  ordered  his  town- 
residences — Syon  and  Northumberland  Houses — to  be  opened  to 
the  public.  Both  are  fine  mansions,  and  princely  in  their  internal 
arrangements.  Northumberland  House  is  in  the  city,  at  Charing 
Cross;  and  is  mainly  remarkable  for  a  superb  marble  stairway, 
which  leads  from  the  ground  to  the  first  floor.  The  rooms  are 
hung  around  with  pictures  by  the  old  masters — the  most  valuable 
being  the  original  of  the  "  Cornaro  Family,"  by  Titian.  The  ball- 
room, a  very  large  and  lofty  apartment,  is  adorned  with  copies  of 
two  of  Raphael's  great  works — "The  Marriage  Feast  of  Cupid  and 
Psyche,"  and  the  "School  of  Athens;"  and  a  copy,  by  Mengs,  of 
Guide's  "Aurora."  The  paintings  are  of  great  magnitude,  and 
occupy  three  sides  of  the  room,  which  is  decidedly  the  finest  in 
the  palace.  The  furniture,  although  costly,  did  not  appear  to 
me  to  be  in  character  with  the  splendor  of  the  decorations  and 
extent  of  the  place,  and  some  faded  tapestry  in  a  particular  de- 
partment would  better  suit  a  rag-shop  than  the  walls  it  now 
defaces. 


214  THE  FOOTPATIl  AND  highway; 

Syon  House  is  a  few  miles  from  town  on  the  Thames,  near 
Brentford.  It  contains  some  fine  pictures  by  Vandyke,  and 
several  of  Sir  Peter  Lely's  and  Kneller's  best  productions.  The 
"  long  room"  is  embellished  with  portraits  of  the  Percys,  from 
the  days  of  William  the  Conqueror  down  to  our  own  time,  in- 
cluding one  of  the  valiant  Hotspur.  The  drawing-room  is  the 
finest  apartment,  being  hung  with  rich  crimson  damask,  and  orna- 
mented at  the  ceiling  with  paintings  from  ancient  mythology. 
In  the  entrance-hall  is  a  number  of  verd-antique  marble  columns, 
said  to  have  been  recovered  from  the  Tiber  at  Rome;  and 
several  fine  bronze  figures  of  great  excellence.  The  grounds  are 
extensive  and  extremely  sylvan.  They  abound  in  secluded  walks 
and  shady  groves,  tall  cedars  of  Lebanon  and  brave  old  elms. 
The  Thames  flows  not  far  from  the  house,  and  although  the 
building  is  very  plain,  the  scenery  around  gives  the  visitor  a 
strong  partiality  for  the  quiet  and  princely  residence.  Thousands 
of  persons  availed  themselves  of  the  privilege  of  visiting  the  two 
mansions,  and  the  strictest  decorum  and  propriety  characterized 
the  conduct  of  all.  Many  were  the  wives  and  daughters  of 
London  tradesmen  and  mechanics,  and  in  no  instance  did  I  ob- 
serve the  slightest  rudeness  on  the  part  of  a  single  individual — a 
proof  to  me  that  it  does  not  require  a  person  to  be  of  noble  blood, 
even  in  England,  to  be  of  good  manners  and  genteel  behavior. 

Hampton  Court,  the  former  residence  of  the  deposed  and  dis- 
graced Wolsey,  is  now  the  resort  of  the  public,  and  the  freed, 
toil-worn  citizens  of  London  fly  to  it  on  Sundays  to  drink  in  the 
rich  air  of  its  magnificent  parks,  and  admire  the  wealth  of  its 
splendid  galleries.  They  go  there  by  thousands,  and  well  may 
they  be  proud  of  the  privilege  their  sovereign  grants  them,  of 
viewing  the  monarchic  palace,  and  living  in  its  healthful  grounds. 
I  have  seen  thirty  thousand  persons  there  at  one  time,  nearly  all 
of  whom  were  London  mechanics  and  their  families,  and  not  once 
did  I  notice  a  single  improper  act.  Every  individual  conducted 
himself  as  if  upon  his  behavior  depended  the  reputation  of  his 
class,  and  he  was  determined  it  should  not  suffer  in  his  keeping. 
Cheerfulness,  sociability,  and  a  spirit  of  kindness  characterized 
all,  from  the  little  child  to  the  grayheaded  man  ;  and  not  a  pro- 


216 

fane  or  vulgar  expression  fell  from  the  lips  of  an  individual.  Of 
the  vast  throng  there,  there  was  not  one  who  exhibited  the  least 
sign  of  intoxication,  but  all  were  sober,  respectful,  and  devoted  to 
rational  enjoyment.  Each  had  a  proper  respect  for  the  rights  of 
others,  and  each  revelled  intellectually  in  the  feast  to  which  he 
was  admitted.  The  intelligent  mechanics  and  tradesmen  of 
London  are  a  refined  people,  and  they  appreciate  the  favor 
they  have  of  visiting  Hampton  Court  on  the  Sabbath,  and  never 
abuse  it.  Their  enjoyment  of  the  day  at  the  old  palace,  and  in 
its  glorious  grounds,  is  not  a  desecration,  but  both  a  harmless 
and  beneficial  use  of  the  time.  They  feel  when  there  that  life 
has  a  sweet  draught  mixed  with  its  bitterness,  and  if  many  of 
them  do  not  hold  to  a  religious  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  they 
welcome  it  as  a  glorious  boon  from  Heaven,  a  day  of  rest  from 
toil  and  a  release  from  confinement. 

The  palace  is  built  in  the  quadrangular  form,  and  is  of  vast 
extent.  The  entrance  to  the  first  court-yard  is  adorned  with  busts 
of  Tiberius,  Vitellius,  Trajan,  and  Hadrian,  all  of  which  were  sent 
to  Wolsey  from  Rome  by  Pope  Leo  the  Tenth.  A  large  hall 
to  the  left  of  this  entrance  contains  some  fine  tapestry  embellished 
with  splendid  designs,  and  a  glorious  window  with  the  red  hat  of 
a  cardinal  conspicuously  marked  on  its  glass  of  gay  colors;  while 
around  are  the  coats  of  arms  of  deceased  monarchs  and  queens, 
and  halberts,  pikes,  and  banners.  The  apartment  is  said  to  have 
been  used  as  a  theatre  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James,  and 
that  the  play  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  or  the  Fall  of  Wolsey,  was 
represented  in  it  first  on  the  very  spot  which  had  witnessed  the 
prelate's  greatest  power  and  splendor. 

The  presence  chamber  contains  seven  cartoons  of  great  merit, 
by  Carlo  Cignani,  and  the  galleries  and  various  apartments  are 
literally  lined  with  masterpieces  of  art.  There  are  "  Countesses 
mature''  in  robes  and  pearls,  by  Kneller,  and  beauty  speaks  from 
out  the  canvas.  Sweet  girls  and  capricious  belles,  by  Sir  Peter 
Lely.  Here  shines  a  Titian  in  all  its  glories;  there  young  Palma 
stains  the  canvas  with  the  blood  of  martyrs ;  before  you  a  Van- 
dyke wooes  the  sight,  and  at  your  right  a  gloomy  Tintoretto. 
Here  a  Saint,  by  Parmigiano,  pleads  and  begs  you  to  release  him 


216  TUE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHWAYj 

from  the  pain  be  suffers,  while  glorious  Rubens  calms  you  into 
peace !  There's  old  Jordaens,  there  a  Snyders,  there  a  golden 
and  celestial  Claude,  and  here  a  rich  and  sweet  Murillo.  There's 
a  Giorgone  black  as  night,  and  here  a  very  gem  of  Guido ;  while 
around  you  shines  a  world  of  triumphs  by  a  hundred  artists. 
Here  the  genius  of  Caravaggio  left  its  impress,  and  there  sublime 
Angelo  holds  the  vision  captive.  Spagnoletto  stained  this  form 
with  sainted  gore,  and  gloomy  Spada  colored  that  St.  John. 
Paul  Veronese,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  and  matchless  Ricci,  crowned 
the  place  with  all  the  holy !  Here's  a  rich  Ferrato;  and  a  warrior 
by  Guercino  scowls  from  yonder  frame,  as  if  he  meant  to  step 
down  and  slay  the  gaping  gazers.  There's  a  Rembrandt  dark  as 
Hades,  yet  as  light  as  day.  Here  a  Venus  by  Albano  and  at  its 
side  a  faultless  masterpiece  of  old  Teniers.  And  even  West,  he 
of  the  bloodless  palette  from  beyond  the  far  Atlantic,  here  shines 
in  glory  and  vies  with  all  the  masters  of  the  olden  time  in  his 
lights  and  shadows,  splendid  forms,  and  rich  celestial  coloring.  I'll 
give  him  praise  for  once,  dash  away  my  prejudice,  and  own  he 
WAS  AN  ARTIST.  But,  ovcr  all  the  throng,  triumphant  and  sub- 
lime, unapproached  and  unapproachable,  stands  the  youthful 
artist,  glorious  and  immortal  Raphael.  The  others'  pictures  are 
but  shadows  when  compared  with  his  cartoons — the  very  per- 
fection of  design.  I  shall  never  think  of  Hampton  Court  without 
summoning  up  a  lengthened  and  imposing  throng  of  painters,  who, 
with  noble  air,  shall  pass  in  file  before  me;  and  at  the  bead  and 
front  of  all  will  be  the  form  of  Raphael  with  that  calm  face  of  his, 
so  full  of  art  and  genius ! 

The  Vernon  Gallery,  at  Marlboro'  House,  is  composed  almost 
exclusively  of  the  productions  of  modern  English  artists.  Some 
of  the  works  are  remarkable,  but  none  exhibit  the  soul  that  glows 
in  the  picture  of  the  artists  of  the  Flemish  and  Italian  schools. 
The  pictures  have  the  appearance  of  having  been  done  to  order, 
and  it  is  an  established  fact  that  no  painter  ever  yet  produced  a 
masterpiece  when  he  painted  solely  for  lucre.  The  idea  of  work- 
ing in  art  for  money  drives  the  inspiration  away,  and  the  result  is 
a  senseless  unfeeling  effort  of  the  pencil ;  rich  it  may  bo  in  color- 
ing, and  possessing  decided  mechanical  merit,  but  wanting  most  ccr- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  21T 

tainly  the  poetry  and  soul- elevating  characteristics  of  the  works  of 
those  whose  labor  in  art  was  a  religion,  those  who  painted  from  a  be- 
lief in  what  they  did  and  a  faith  in  their  chosen  profession.  The 
pictures  of  Gainsborough  are  the  best  in  the  collection,  and  evidence 
the  superiority  and  sincerity  of  the  artist.  The  Hogarths,  in  the 
same  building,  stand  pre-eminent  for  their  truthfulness  to  nature 
and  character. 

One  of  the  great  resorts  of  sight-seers  in  London  is  Madame 
Tussaud's  exhibition  of  wax  figures,  and  scarcely  a  night  passes 
that  the  place  is  not  densely  thronged  with  gaping  and  admiring 
humanity.  The  untravelled  countryman  and  his  rustic  daughters 
there  see  the  sovereign  in  regal  robes,  and  her  descendants  repre- 
sented in  yellow  wax,  and  look  with  admiring  wonder  on  the 
stupid  show.  Wretched  figures  of  more  wretched  kings  and  queens 
are  judiciously  disposed  for  exhibition,  and  the  tin  spangles  on 
their  faded  robes  glitter  in  the  gas-light,  and  astonish  the  delighted 
and  loyal  crowd.  A  whole  host  of  the  line  of  Brunswick  stand 
around  like  wooden  men  and  women,  with  eyes  agape,  staring 
upon  the  throng  who  stare  again  at  them.  Miserable  caricatures 
of  Napoleon,  Washington,  Cromwell,  Shakspeare,  and  Byron 
occupy  niches,  and  the  soul  sickens  at  the  contemplation  of  the 
figures,  they  so  outrage  humanity.  Each  one  looks  as  if  ophthal- 
mia were  a  distemper  of  the  atmosphere,  and  all  sufier  from  the 
sad  disease.  Shakspeare  is  represented  as  a  modern  dandy,  "who 
cultivates  his  hair;''  and  Byron  as  a  Greek,  with  a  belt  around 
the  waist  containing  a  whole  arsenal  of  arms.  One  naturally 
enough  concludes,  after  viewing  that  caricature,  that  his  lordship 
is  admirably  prepared  for  a  Cuban  expedition,  and 

"  Was  the  mildest  mannered  man 
That  ever  scuttled  ship,  or  cut  a  throat," 

and  took  delight  in  nothing  short  of  murder.  Other  figures  are 
arranged  throughout  the  apartments,  Qnd  some  of  them  even  move. 
A  Chinese  lady  nods  her  head  most  vehemently  at  times,  and  after 
the  lacqueys  wind  up  Cobbett,  that  worthy  old  gentleman  twists 
his  neck  determinedly  until  the  weights  run  down,  when  he  very 
wisely  keeps  himself  quiet  until  put  in  motion  again  by  the  ma- 
19 


218  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

chinery.  There  are  some  miserable  pictures  around  the  walls, 
and  several  plaster  casts  of  female  forms,  none  of  which  are  re- 
markable for  beauty. 

But  this  is  not  all.  The  "  room  of  horrors"  invites  attention 
next,  as  if  there  were  not  enough  of  horrors  in  the  first  apartments 
to  horrify  any  decent,  well-disposed  individual.  The  difference 
between  the  two  sections  is,  I  suppose,  that  the  first  contains  the 
murdered,  the  last  the  murderers,  as  every  one  who  sees  the  figures 
in  both  must  acknowledge. 

The  chamber  of  horrors  is  rich  in  the  wonderful  of  the  cri- 
minal world;  and  there  the  enlightened  and  intelligent  can  see 
Mrs.  Manning,  and  others  equally  distinguished,  who  have  added 
to  the  Newgate  literature  of  England.  Every  exertion  has  been 
made  to  cause  the  poor  wretches  to  look  as  rascally  as  possible ; 
and  the  artist  is  not  even  content  with  that,  but  must  call  them, 
in  the  catalogue,  all  the  "  diabolical"  names  to  which  he  can  con- 
tort his  classical  tongue.  Burke,  the  Edinburgh  miscreant,  is 
represented  as  a  fiend  incarnate,  and  his  face  is  well  calculated  to 
frighten  children  to  death.  Napoleon's  carriage  is  in  the  apart- 
ment; but  I  could  not  ascertain  what  crime  that  unfortunate 
vehicle  had  been  guilty  of  to  entitle  it  to  a  place  in  that  horrible 
chamber  of  horrors.  It  surely  did  not  commit  murder;  and  yet, 
why  is  it  there?  So  much  for  Madame  Tussaud's  exhibition  of 
wax  figures,  the  resort  of  the  curious,  and  a  sham  to  please  or 
alarm  children.  It  is,  without  misrepresentation,  the  most  abo- 
minable abomination  in  the  great  city,  and  the  very  audience-ball 
of  humbugs.     Barnum  ought  to  have  it. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

JEWISH  QUARTER — PUBLIC  STATUES — PECULIARITIES. 

There  is  a  street  in  the  Whitcchapcl  section  of  London  called 
Petticoat  Lane,  a  long,  narrow  avenue,  almost  entirely  occupied 
by  a  set  of  low,  thieving  Jews.     It  is  a  carriage-way;  but  in  con- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  219 

sequence  of  being  filled  with  goods,  but  few  vehicles  enter  it. 
With  Houndsditch,  another  similarly  inhabited,  though  better  con- 
ditioned thoroughfare  in  the  neighborhood,  it  comprises  the  Jew- 
ish quarter  of  the  metropolis.  Both  sides  of  the  narrow,  filthy 
alley  are  lined  with  shops,  filled  with  trumpery  of  every  kind. 
Old  clothes  (and  no  one  will  doubt  their  being  old),  broken  china, 
shabby  furniture,  rusty  iron,  dirty  children,  slatternly  women,  and 
vagabond-looking  men  crowd  the  place.  At  one  side,  the  curious 
wight  who  enters  the  avenue  is  almost  forced  into  a  shop  to  buy 
a  hat  better  than  new;  while,  at  the  other,  an  opposition  dealer 
insists  that  you  purchase  of  him,  and  declares  his  neighbor  will 
cheat  you.  The  centre  of  the  lane  is  occupied  with  stands,  on 
which  is  exposed  for  sale  a  conglomeration  of  such  trumpery  as 
only  Jews  would  collect  or  offer  to  sell.  The  whole  of  the  in- 
habitants look  like  professional  thieves,  from  the  children  up,  and 
it  is  the  presence  only  of  the  police  that  prevents  a  man  being 
robbed  in  broad  daylight.  No  one  can  be  mistaken  in  the  people. 
All  possess  the  indisputable  nose  that  characterizes  the  tribe  of 
Judah;  and  the  sharp,  penetrating  black  eye,  and  sinister,  dis- 
honest, avaricious  expression  of  countenance  exhibited  by  all, 
induce  the  visitor  to  make  a  hasty  retreat  from  Petticoat  Lane. 
I  thought  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  place  thick  with  villany ; 
and  when  I  reached  my  lodgings  took  my  coat  off  and  aired  it,  so  as 
to  get  rid  of  the  infection.  Talk  about  the  Five  Points!  Pshaw! 
In  gaming  phrase,  Petticoat  Lane  will  beat  it,  and  give  it  a 
thousand  start. 

The  public  statues  of  persons  of  distinction  in  London  are  nu- 
merous. Wellington  has  at  least  two,  both  of  which  are  eques- 
trian. The  best  is  in  front  of  the  Royal  Exchange  and  the  Bank. 
The  other  is  over  the  triumphal  arch  at  Hyde  Park  corner,  and 
opposite  Apsley  House.  There  is  a  very  fine  bronze  figure  of 
George  the  Third,  mounted,  in  Cockspur  Street;  and  one  of 
Charles  the  First,  at  Charing  Cross,  immediately  before  the  Nel- 
son Pillar,  on  the  top  of  which  stands  a  colossal  figure  of  the  great 
naval  captain.  George  the  Fourth  had  a  statue  of  himself  placed 
on  one  of  the  pedestals  in  Trafalgar  Square,  at  his  own  expense, 
und  it  remains  to  this  day  as  a  monument  of  his  vanity. 
There  is  a  very  fine  pedestrian  figure  of  the  sailor  king,  William 


220  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  IIIGHWAY; 

the  Fourth,  at  the  foot  of  King  William  Street,  near  Londoa 
Bridge,  on  wliat  is  said  to  be  the  site  of  Dame  Quigley's  Boar's 
Head  Tavern.  It  is  a  masterpiece,  and  one  of  the  best  public 
statues  in  London.  There  are  representations  in  bronze,  in  the 
public  squares,  of  Fox,  Pitt,  and  Canning;  and  a  really  graceful 
and  fine  figure  of  James  the  Second  in  the  court-yard  of  White 
Hall.  A  tall  column,  of  Scotch  granite,  rises  near  Carlton  Ter- 
race to  an  altitude  of  one  hundred  and  some  forty  feet,  attracting 
considerable  attention.  It  is  surmounted  with  a  fine  bronze  statue 
of  a  portly,  baldheaded  man,  and  can  be  seen  to  great  advantage 
from  St.  James's  Park.  A  few  days  after  my  entrance  into  Lon- 
don, I  was  walking  near  the  shaft,  and  not  knowing  to  whom  it 
was  erected,  I  asked  a  man  of  genteel  appearance  what  it  was. 

"  We  call  that,"  said  he,  looking  up  to  it  with  a  sarcastic  smile, 
"  the  I.  0.  U.  column.  It  was  built  by  subscription  to  the  memory 
of  the  Duke  of  York,  a  man  who  died  indebted  to  almost  every 
tradesman  in  London  who  would  trust  him;  and  it  would  have 
been  more  to  the  honor  of  those  who  built  it  if  they  had  paid 
some  of  his  starving  creditors  with  the  money,  instead  of  erecting 
that  to  insult  those  he  cheated." 

I  did  not  expect  such  a  reply;  and  as  my  informant  was  of  the 
class  called  tradesmen,  I  concluded  that  His  Royal  Highness,  the 
valiant  Duke  of  York,  had  left  him  some  mementos  of  his  great- 
ness in  the  shape  of  unpaid  bills. 

The  circulating  medium  of  England  is  gold,  silver,  and  copper, 
a  currency  far  superior  to  flimsy  paper,  and  one  with  which  there 
is  not  the  slightest  difficulty.  The  American  is  impressed  with 
its  utility  and  excellence  at  once  and  lastingly.  There  is  no 
trouble  about  change,  and  as  the  currency  is  the  same  throughout 
the  three  kingdoms,  a  man  is  never  at  a  loss  in  a  strange  place  to 
know  whether  his  money  is  current  or  not.  The  lowest  note  is 
£5,  or  about  §25;  and  go  where  you  will,  that  always  commands 
its  full  value  in  gold  or  silver.  I  often  thought,  when  ram- 
bling about  the  kingdom,  how  much  superior  is  the  currency  of 
monarchical  England,  couiparcd  with  the  trashy  paper  of  our 
llcpublie.  I  had  not  occasion  to  pay  an  exorbitant  discount  on 
flimsy,  soiled,  and  mutilated  bills  in  every  town  I  entered,  as 


221 

one  must  do  in  the  United  States,  nor  did  I  run  the  risk  of  hav- 
ing a  counterfeit  note  palmed  on  me  when  I  required  change. 
The  sovereigns  and  shillings  were  always  at  par,  no  matter  where 
I  went,  and  never  refused;  and  that  is  more  than  can  he  said 
honestly  of  one-half  of  the  notes  of  the  many  swindling  banks 
now  circulating  in  our  land. 

The  Grovernment  has  established  a  very  convenient  system  of 
forwarding  remittances,  which  is  .worth  describing.  It  is  con- 
nected with  the  post-office,  and  has  its  branches  in  every  town, 
and  nearly  every  village  in  the  country.  The  plan  is  simple  and 
reliable.  The  person  remitting  goes  to  the  money  order  office,  as 
the  head-quarters  are  called,  and  obtains  a  draft  for  the  amount 
required  payable  at  a  given  place.  The  order  is  forwarded  by 
mail  by  the  one  who  bought  it;  and  at  the  same  time  information 
is  transmitted  by  the  Government  agent  to  the  office  on  which 
the  draft  is  made,  stating  the  sum,  and  the  name  of  the  person 
sending.  The  person  who  receives  it  presents  the  order;  and, 
after  signing  his  name  to  a  receipt  on  its  face,  is  asked  who  the 
order  is  from.  If  the  answer  be  satisfactory,  the  amount  is  paid 
at  once;  but  if  not,  it  is  withheld  until  the  one  presenting  the 
draft  shows  conclusively  that  he  is  the  proper  recipient.  Sixpence 
is  charged  on  sums  of  five  pounds  or  less,  and  when  the  advantages 
are  taken  into  consideration  it  is  very  reasonable.  Fraud  seldom 
or  never  results  from  the  system,  and  losses  are  rare.  Some  per- 
sons pretend  to  think  the  Grovernment  has  no  right  to  act  the 
part  of  a  small  exchange  broker;  but  the  majority  think  other- 
wise, and  as  the  system  prevents  sharpers  from  taking  advantage 
of  the  necessities  of  those  who  want  to  make  remittances  in  small 
amounts,  it  is  popular  among  the  masses,  and  both  useful  and  safe. 

Notices  of  habits  and  customs  are  worthy  of  record,  and  probably 
a  description  of  a  London  barber's  shop  may  not  be  uninteresting. 
They  differ  much  from  the  showy  and  convenient  saloons  for 
shaving  so  numerous  in  the  United  States,  and  are  neither  clean 
nor  attractive.  The  barber  is  usually  a  slovenly  sort  of  fellow, 
or  an  arrant  dandy,  whose  "  odoriferous  attempts  to  please"  are 
detestable.  Hair-dressing  is  his  proper  business,  and  as  nearly 
all  Englishmen  in  respectable  life  shave  themselves,  the  barber 

19* 


ooo 


THE  rOOTTATn  AND  niOIIWAT  J 


Las  more  use  for  his  scissors  than  his  razor.  The  shop  is  indiffer- 
ently fitted  up — the  chair  for  shaving  being  one  of  the  ordinary 
kind,  without  a  head-rest  or  support  for  the  feet,  and  the  subject 
is  obliged  to  sit  in  it  upright,  as  if  invested  with  a  strait-jacket. 
As  soon  as  he  is  seated,  the  knight  of  the  razor  applies  the  soap 
with  a  brush,  and  then  proceeds  to  shave — an  operation  he  usually 
performs  in  a  very  negligent  and  imperfect  manner.  The  conveni- 
ences for  washing  are  indifferejat,  and  as  the  shaved  is  obliged  to 
dress  his  own  hair,  he  must  do  so  with  a  'puUic  comb,  provided  for 
the  purpose;  and  also  dry  his  face  with  the  public  towel,  both  of 
which  may  have  been  used  by  twenty  persons  before  he  had 
occasion  for  them.  The  charge  for  the  favor  is  two-pence,  or 
about  four  cents ;  but  in  many  cases  not  more  than  half  that  sum 
is  demanded,  and  the  service  is  dearly  bought  at  that.  Many 
English  travellers  in  the  United  States  tell  stories  about  people 
here  using  the  same  tooth-brush,  and  in  their  holy  fright  at  our 
barbarity  entirely  forget  that  it  is  a  common  thing  in  England  for 
men  to  use,  in  a  barber's  shop,  the  same  shaving-brush,  razor,  comb, 
hair-brush,  and  towel,  and  know  very  well  that  no  man  who  gets 
shaved  there  at  a  hairdresser's  has  his  own  cup,  razor,  towel,  and 
brush,  as  every  permanently  resident  gentleman  has  who  is  shaved 
at  a  barber's  shop  in  the  United  States.  It  is  true  that  we  have 
many  habits  to  reform,  but  there  are  few  only  of  them  worse 
than  the  one  here  noticed. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

WAITING  FOR  RKMITTANCE8  —  A  TRIP  INLAND  —  TllAVELUNQ 
COMPANIONS — THE  COUNTRY — THE  TOWNS — A  JOURNEY  ON 
FOOT — FARM  WAGES — MEN  AND  TUEIR  SHOES — THE  LAN- 
GUAGE. 

Wkauy  of  London,  and  disappointed  in  not  receiving  letters 
from  home,  I  determined  to  await  no  longer  the  tardy  action  of 


223 

my  friends,  but  to  proceed  inland,  and  visit  such  parts  of  the 
country  as  circumstances  would  allow  and  inclination  might 
prompt.  Yorkshire,  although  distant  from  the  metropolis,  pre- 
sented a  region  yet  unexplored,  and  various  circumstances  directed 
me  to  that  section  of  country.  With  a  sadness,  I  bade  farewell 
to  my  generous  friends  in  the  metropolis,  and  set  out  on  my  jour- 
ney. The  rain  threatened,  and  when  I  arrived  at  the  station  it 
was  to  learn  that  the  hour  of  departure  had  been  changed,  and  I 
would  of  necessity  be  compelled  to  wait  for  a  considerable  period. 
The  time  hung  heavily  on  me,  and  a  short  stroll  in  Regent's  Park 
did  not  contribute  much  to  relieve  my  anxiety.  The  hour  at  last 
arrived,  and  having  obtained  a  comfortable  seat,  I  made  myself  as 
contented  as  possible  under  the  circumstances,  endeavoring  to 
reconcile  myself  to  the  stupid  company  around  me.  My  travel- 
ling companions  regarded  me  as  a  vara  avis,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  they  ascertained  to  what  country  I  belonged. 

^' You  are  not  a  Frenchman  ?"  said  one,  with  a  puzzled  look, 
fearful  lest  he  had  made  a  mistake,  and  yet  ambitious  to  be  con- 
sidered an  adept  in  recognizing  foreigners. 

"  No  !  I  am  not  a  Frenchman,'^  I  replied  in  a  tone  by  no  means 
calculated  to  encourage  or  induce  further  questions. 

"  Then  your  loike  to  be  a  Yankee,  or  I'm  greetly  mista'cn.'^ 

^'  Y^es,  I  am  an  American,^'  and  then  several  chimed  in  and 
gave  their  opinions  of  slavery  and  war.  One  or  two  thought 
Jonathan  would  be  too  much  for  John  Bull,  should  another  con- 
test arise  between  the  two  countries,  while  others  entertained 
opinions  to  the  contrary.  ''  The  Yankees  are  too  impudent,  and 
ought  to  be  thrashed,  and  the  sooner  it  is  done  the  better."  I 
made  no  answer,  expressed  no  opinion,  and  consequently  provoked 
no  ill  feeling.  Silence  is  a  virtue  when  a  person  is  in  such  com- 
pany, and  even  if  it  be  not  so,  I  was  too  dejected  at  the  time  to 
take  much  interest  in  a  conversation  with  those  from  whom  what 
little  information  I  might  gain  would  be  of  such  a  character 
as  to  be  scarcely  worth  preserving.  It  is  said  that  knowledge 
can  be  obtained  from  a  jackass,  but  it  would  puzzle  a  good  chemist 
to  extract  the  smallest  particle  of  that  useful  article  from  a  whole 
army  of  such  donkeys  as  surrounded  me  at  that  time.     They  were 


224  THE  FOOTPATn  AND  HionwAY; 

the  dumbest  bipeds  of  the  race  I  ever  saw,  unquestionably,  and 
as  boorish  as  they  were  dumb. 

We  proceeded  at  a  rapid  rate,  and  soon  gained  the  open  coun- 
try. The  landscapes  were  lovely,  and  although  the  grain  had 
been  gathered  from  the  fields,  the  pasture  was  green,  and  the 
clumps  of  wood,  and  scattered  trees,  and  rich  autumnal  appear- 
ance of  the  hedges  made  a  most  delightful  succession  of  scenery. 
The  interior  of  England  is  less  wild  than  the  coast  sections,  and 
more  subdued  in  aspect.  Occasionally,  the  sharp  spire  or  square 
tower  of  some  old  village  church  starts  up  from  among  the  trees; 
and  the  quiet  hamlets,  with  straw-thatched  roofs,  look  at  a  dis- 
tance the  very  abode  of  content.  The  absence  of  large  forests 
and  desolate  tracts  of  land  contributes  greatly  to  the  pleasing  ap- 
pearance of  the  country,  and  makes  one  love  it,  whether  he  will  or 
not ;  and,  when  October's  sober  brown  tinges  the  hedges,  and  sears 
the  leaves  of  the  scattered  trees,  and  the  quiet  cattle  graze  un- 
disturbed on  the  rich  sward  of  the  beautiful  fields,  and  the  hazy 
atmosphere  sheds  a  sort  of  dreamy  influence  over  the  landscape, 
one  is  impressed  lastingly  with  the  poetry  of  the  rural  life  of 
England. 

The  rain  began  to  fall  heavily,  and  the  day  wore  away  with 
clouds,  as  we  dashed  on  towards  our  destination.  We  made 
short  stops  at  several  stations,  but  not  long  enough  to  allow  time 
to  visit  the  interesting  objects  of  the  towns  at  which  we  tarried. 
The  old  cathedral  of  Leicester  was  too  far  oflf  for  examination, 
and  I  was  compelled  to  be  content  with  a  distant  and  circum- 
scribed view  of  its  outer  walls.  It  is  a  pretty  structure,  and  the 
town  is  famous,  for  it  was  there  that  the  noted  Cardinal  Wolsey 
expired,  and  other  incidents  of  importance  occurred.  I^oughboro' 
came  next,  and  the  dazzling  lights  of  a  lace  factory  told  unmis- 
takably how  many  weary  hours  the  factory- classes  are  compelled 
to  labor  within  the  walls  of  such  prison-houses.  Night  closed  in, 
and  darkness  shut  out  the  landscape.  Town  after  town  was 
passed,  and  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  train  arrived  at  the 
city  of  York.  I  took  my  knapsack,  and  hunted  up  a  tavern. — 
The  landlord  descended  and  admitted  me,  and  as  ho  was  in  his 
bare  feet,  I  had  a  sight  of  two  of  the  dirtiest  pedal  extremities 


on,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  225 

ever  worn  by  mortal.  They  certainly  did  not  argue  much  for 
the  cleanliness  of  the  house  or  its  inmates,  but,  as  I  had  stopped 
there  previously,  I  knew  the  place  to  be  clean,  and  had  no  cause 
to  change  my  opinion  when  shown  to  a  room  for  the  balance  of 
the  night.  Everything  was  comfortable,  and  as  a  weary  man  is 
easily  satisfied  with  a  resting-place,  after  a  long  travel,  in  the 
short  hours  of  the  night,  I  soon  fell  asleep  and  forgot  my  troubles, 
both  mental  and  physical,  in  the  enjoyment  of  peaceful  rest. 

The  following  day  dawned  gloriously  and  bright,  the  rain  had 
ceased,  and  the  soft  wind  blew  fresh  from  the  south-west.  York 
was  clean  and  gayj  its  quaint  and  crooked  old  streets  wore  a 
cheerful  aspect,  and,  prompted  by  their  inviting  appearance,  I 
took  a  stroll  around  the  proud  and  lofty  Minster  for  the  last 
time.  The  air  was  redolent  of  health  and  the  odor  of  trees, 
and  the  town  appeared  to  be  enjoying  one  of  Nature's  Sabbaths. 
I  looked  up  in  admiration  to  the  peerless  structure,  and  entered 
its  soaring  transept  with  a  heart  full  of  the  religion  of  hope  and 
calmness.  The  dome  of  heaven,  without,  lifted  my  truant  thoughts 
to  the  Great  Creator  of  the  Universe,  and  caused  me  to  muse  his 
praise  in  silence;  and  the  rich  tracery  and  gorgeous  productions 
by  man  within  the  august  pile  held  my  soul  captive  to  sweet  and 
pleasing  contemplation;  the  works  of  the  All-Wise  Being  inspir- 
ed me  with  gratitude,  those  of  the  Mundane  claimed  my  admira- 
tion and  praise  I     But  enough  of  this — 

"  Away,  nor  let  me  loiter  in  my  song, 
For  I  have  many  a  mountain  path  to  tread," 

and  must  descend  from  the  sublime  to  the  commonplace  things 
of  this  world. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  started  for  Leeds,  a  distance  of  twenty-five 
miles,  a  journey  I  determined  to  accomplish  on  foot.  The  day 
was  favorable  to  the  undertaking,  and  with  my  knapsack  and 
staff,  pilgrim-like,  I  took  to  the  road  in  good  spirits.  For  miles 
there  was  but  little  to  interest,  and  the  landscape  presented  no 
remarkable  features,  either  natural  or  artificial.  A  few  miles  to 
my  right  lay  the  field  of  Marston  Moor,  famous  for  being  the 
scene  of  a  fierce  and  desperate  struggle  between  the  Parliamentary 


226  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

troops  and  those  of  Charles  the  First,  but  except  its  historical 
celebrity  it  has  no  attractions  for  the  visitor  at  this  day.  Some 
farm  hands  and  hcdgers  were  at  work  in  the  fields  and  along  the 
road-side,  but  they  were  a  stupid  set,  and  spoke  a  dialect  scarcely 
intelligible.  Their  condition  was  poor,  and  from  the  amount  of 
wages  they  receive  it  would  be  unjust  to  expect  them  to  live 
better  than  they  do  under  the  circumstances.  Seven  shillings  a 
week  for  working  on  a  farm  from  daylight  to  dark  will  not  afford 
a  married  man,  with  a  wife  and  three  or  four  children,  many  com- 
forts ;  and  if  he  and  his  family  are  ignorant,  it  is  not  much  won- 
der, and  certainly  npt  his  fault,  when  there  are  no  schools  but 
such  as  must  be  paid  for  dearly,  and  no  food  but  what  costs  ex- 
travagantly. Clownishncss  and  stupidity  are  the  natural  results 
of  the  social  and  political  condition  of  the  rustic  population  of 
England ;  and  so  long  as  men  are  regarded  by  those  who  are  their 
superiors  in  wealth  and  position  as  but  little  better  than  swine, 
so  long  will  the  farm  hands  of  Great  Britain  be  held  in  their 
present  condition.  In  this  section  of  the  country,  the  men  wear 
that  abominable  approximation  to  a  petticoat — the  smock-frock, 
and  shoes  suflficiently  heavy  to  answer  the  purpose  of  street 
paving.  They  plod  along  with  a  shuffling  gate,  and  it  is  not 
surprising  when  one  looks  at  the  immense  weight  they  have 
attached  to  their  feetr  I  weighed  a  pair  of  the  shoes,  and  they 
fell  but  little  short  of  six  pounds  and  a  half,  and  appeared  to  me 
to  be  heavy  enough  to  fix  a  man  to  the  ground  without  any  fur- 
ther weight.  The  nails  in  the  soles  are  oftentimes  three-eighths 
of  an  inch  square  on  the  head,  and  as  the  bottoms  are  full  of  such 
ornaments,  the  great  weight  cannot  be  wondered  at.  I  havo 
measured  the  heels  of  some  of  these  rustic  dancing  pumps,  and 
found  them  to  be  an  inch  and  a  half  thick,  with  soles  in  pro- 
portion, and  then  filled  with  the  nails  above  described. 

The  language  of  the  great  mass  of  the  inhabitants  of  York- 
shire is  a  jargon  it  would  bo  an  insult  to  call  English,  and  only 
intelligible  to  those  who  imbibed  it  in  their  childhood,  or  bavo 
acquired  it  by  study.  But  few  readers,  I  presume,  are  familiar 
with  the  classical  productions  of  the  Lancashire  hard,  Tim  Bob- 
bin, but  if  they  wish  to  learn  something  of  the  tongue  of  his 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  227 

section  of  the  world,  they  had  better  obtain  a  copy  of  his  works, 
and  then  they  will  be  able  to  appreciate  the  beauties  of  his  native 
language,  after  they  have  studied  it  suflficiently  to  comprehend  it 
— a  thing  not  easily  done  without  the  aid  of  a  competent  linguist. 
He  wrote  in  his  vernacular,  and  as  that  is  the  present  language 
of  Yorkshire,  his  work  is  a  curiosity.  Take  the  following  spe- 
cimen, and  it  will  give  some  faint  idea  of  the  common  and  usual 
style  of  speech  : — 

"An  ther  wur  a  peinter  that  lived  unce  at  Halifax  (but  hes 
been  livin  a  Froglan  a  mony  a  yer  sin),  an  int'  order  o'  his  per- 
fesshun  he  wor  called  aught  o't'tawen  t-goa  t-at  gentlemans  hawse 
to  tak  t'likeness  o'  sum  o'  his  cattle  !"  That  may  be  considered 
fair — not  exaggerated — but  much  better  than  is  generally  spoken, 
and  yet  it  would  puzzle  any  but  a  linguist  to  tell  what  is  meant 
by  it.  To  translate  it  into  English,  it  would  be :  "  And  there 
was  a  painter  that  lived  once  at  Halifax  (but  he  has  been  living 
at  Frogland  for  many  a  year  since),  and  in  the  order  of  his  pro- 
fession he  was  called  out  of  town  to  go  to  a  gentleman's  house, 
to  take  the  likeness  of  some  of  his  cattle."  The  grammatical 
arrangement  is  not  correct,  but  the  paragraph  is  copied  literally 
from  a  printed  work,  and  is  nearly  an  exact  specimen  of  the  best 
of  the  spoken  language  of  the  country  people  of  Yorkshire  and 
Lancashire.  I  frequently  met  with  persons  whose  speech  was  so 
outrageous  that  I  could  not  understand  what  they  said,  and  they 
were  equally  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  me. 

The  road  over  which  I  travelled  is  through  a  gently  rising  country, 
and,  like  the  majority  of  the  highways  in  England,  it  has  a  foot- 
walk  running  its  entire  length.  For  miles  this  way  is  flagged, 
and  were  it  not  for  the  continuous  hedges  and  open  country,  the 
pedestrian  would  almost  imagine  himself  on  the  edge  of  a  town, 
while  following  its  level  course.  I  entered  the  village  of  Tadcaster 
about  noon,  and,  after  dinner,  looked  around  the  place.  My  land- 
lord was  one  of  those  who  judge  of  people's  pockets  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  their  garments — a  practice  not  confined  to  England; 
and  when  the  servant  asked  the  price  of  my  bread  and  cheese, 
some  questions  were  propounded  to  which  I  was  an  accidental 
listener. 


228  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

"Is  he  dressed  well?''  was  inquired  by  the  host;  and,  a  satisfac- 
tory answer  being  given,  the  waiter  was  directed  to  charge  me  seven 
pence  ha'penny  for  what  a  person  poorly  clad  would  have  had  to 
pay  about  four  pence.  I  settled  the  score,  knowing  well  that  it 
would  be  the  last  one  I  would  ever  pay  in  that  house,  and  went 
out  to  look  at  the  village,  which  is  a  pleasant  place,  quite  clean, 
and  blest  with  streets  much  wider  than  those  of  many  other  ham- 
lets in  which  it  has  been  my  lot  to  rest. 

The  River  Wharf  flows  through  the  place,  and  as  it  is  clear  and 
placid,  it  contrasts  strongly  with  the  black  waters  of  the  streams, 
which  run  through  the  manufacturing  towns.  A  fine  stone  bridge 
spans  the  current  a  short  distance  above,  where  is  a  beautiful  arti- 
ficial cascade,  which  far  surpasses  all  the  natural  falls  I  saw  in  the 
island.  The  church  is  an  old  G  othic  structure,  with  a  square  tower, 
and  stands  in  a  bower  of  trees  on  the  river's  bank.  Time  has 
dealt  harshly  with  its  walls,  and  but  little  care  is  taken  of  the 
burial-ground  around  the  edifice.  Children  were  romping  among 
the  tombs  when  I  was  there,  and  cattle  were  cropping  the  grass, 
which  grew  on  the  hillocks,  under  which 

"  The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep." 

As  I  pursued  my  course  towards  Leeds,  the  land  became  more 
elevated,  and  the  village  spires  shot  heavenward  from  the  distant 
valleys.  Large  farm-houses  occasionally  met  ray  view,  and  their 
appearance  was  so  different  from  what  I  had  seen  in  other  parts 
that  I  could  not  fail  to  notice  them.  The  barns,  in  most  cases, 
were  immense,  and  strongly  resembled  those  of  Lancaster  County, 
Pennsylvania.  Some  were  of  brick,  others  of  stone,  and  all  sub- 
stantially built.  The  farm-yards  were  filled  with  large  stacks  of 
grain,  for  it  is  a  custom  to  keep  the  wheat  in  the  car,  in  many 
cases,  until  there  is  a  demand  for  it,  or  it  is  sold;  and,  conse. 
qucntly,  it  is  housed  or  stacked  under  a  thatched  cover.  Numbers 
of  cattle  were  grazing  in  the  pasture  lands,  and  once  in  a  while  I 
met  a  drove  of  well  fed  mutton  on  its  way  to  market.  The  drovers 
were  accompanied  by  one  or  two  shepherd  dogs — an  animal  which, 
for  sagacity,  surpasses  all  the  canine  species  wo  have  amongst  us. 
They  are  wonderful,  and  it  is  surprising  to  see  them  keep  a  flock 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  229 

of  sheep  under  control.  If  one  goes  out  of  the  direct  route,  the 
dog,  unbidden,  dashes  ahead,  and  drives  the  wanderer  back  to 
the  flock.  Sometimes,  when  in  a  hurry,  he  bounds  over  every 
obstacle  in  his  course,  and  the  backs  of  the  sheep  afford  him  a 
safe  bridge  in  his  determination  to  get  ahead.  If  the  drove 
comes  to  a  crossroad,  he  keeps  in  front,  and  watches  vigilantly  the 
flock  under  his  charge.  If  one  attempts  to  take  the  wrong  course, 
away  he  goes,  and,  by  barking  and  following  it  up,  drives  it  back 
to  the  throng,  and  waits  quietly  until  all  have  passed,  when  he 
moves  on  in  their  wake,  carelessly,  and  apparently  indiflferent  to 
his  charge.  But  a  want  of  vigilance  is  not  a  characteristic  of 
him.  He  is  ever  watchful,  and  never  neglects  his  duty,  and 
when  occasion  requires,  is  quick  to  perform  his  part.  He  is  of  a 
small  race,  has  the  appearance  of  a  hungry  wolf,  with  a  sharp  face, 
and  a  restless  and  ever-watchful  eye,  and,  to  take  his  performances 
as  an  evidence  of  his  worth,  he  is  the  most  valuable  of  the  canine 
tribe. 

A  few  miles  to  the  south-west  of  Tadcaster,  I  met  an 
African — one  of  the  blackest  of  that  sooty  race.  He  was  dressed 
rather  fantastically,  and  meeting  him,  as  I  did,  in  such  a  remote 
section  of  the  world,  my  curiosity  was  excited  as  to  who  and  what 
he  was.  On  inquiry,  he  told  me  he  was  a  native  of  Congo, 
on  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  had  been  in  England  eight  years.  His 
main  support  was  derived  from  the  sale  of  books,  and  he  had  with 
him  a  number  of  volumes,  which  he  was  trying  to  dispose  of  to 
the  country  people.  He  said  that  he  was  not  successful  in  his 
business  in  the  section  of  country  through  which  he  was  then 
passing,  and  found  no  encouragement  to  proceed.  His  speech  was 
broken,  and  strgngly  marked  with  the  negro  accent ;  but  I  am  free 
to  say  that  he  spoke  English  much  better  than  many  of  the  natives 
with  whom  I  conversed.  After  parting  from  him  a  short  time, 
I  met  a  white  woman  with  two  children,  and  it  did  not  require 
much  penetration  to  satisfy  me  that  the  curly-headed  urchins, 
who  called  her  mother,  were  the  off'spring  of  herself  and  the  Afri- 
can, with  whom  I  had  so  recently  been  in  conversation.  The  boys 
were  of  a  light  brown  complexion,  and  had  all  the  characteristics  of 
a  thorough  amalgamation  of  colors  in  their  hue  and  features.  The 
20 


230  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

white  predominated,  however,  and  altogether  the  young  sprouts  of 
the  two  races  were  rather  prepossessing  than  otherwise.  The  mo- 
ther was  a  fair  specimen  of  the  lower  class  of  English  women,  and 
appeared  to  be  proud  of  her  ebony  progeny,  and  happy  in  the  love 
of  her  black  lord,  who  was  certainly  as  sooty  as  the  most  particular 
delineator  of  Shakspeare  could  desire  Othello  to  be,  though  there  is 
little  reason  to  suppose  that  he  entertained  the  jealous  feeling  of 
the  Moor,  for  he  was  of  a  cheerful  and  contented  disposition. 

A  short  distance  on  my  right,  when  a  few  miles  from  Tadcaster, 
I  passed  a  village  called  Towton,  celebrated  for  a  battle  fought 
near  it,  on  Palm  Sunday,  1641,  between  the  rival  houses  of  York 
and  Lancaster,  in  the  famous  wars  of  the  Roses.  At  a  few  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  village,  is  an  obelisk  of  about  forty  feet  in 
height ;  but  I  was  unable  to  learn  what  it  was  placed  there  for, 
although  it  may,  properly,  be  conjectured  that  it  was  erected  to 
commemorate  the  scene  of  battle.  As  I  neared  Leeds,  the  country 
became  quite  thickly  spotted  with  villages,  but  none  of  them  were 
on  the  road.  The  famous  residence  of  the  once  powerful  Knights 
Templar  lay  but  a  few  miles  to  my  left ;  and,  being  desirous  to  see 
the  renowned  edifice,  I  diverged  from  my  direct  course,  and  paid 
it  a  visit.  The  reader  of  "  Ivanhoe"  will  recollect  it  as  Templestowe, 
and  as  being  the  scene  of  the  interview  between  Isaac  of  York  and 
the  Knights,  when  the  Jew  paid  the  place  a  visit  for  the  purpose 
of  effecting  the  release  of  his  daughter.  It  is  called  Temple  New- 
sam  at  this  time,  and  is  occupied  by  a  gentleman  who  is  said  to 
be  a  lineal  descendant  of  one  of  the  soldier  priests.  The  lands 
attached  to  the  estate  are  very  extensive,  and  but  few  places,  even 
in  that  beautiful  country,  can  boast  finer  prospects,  or  nobler  elms 
and  oaks  than  the  lordly  domain  of  Temple  Newsam.  The  man- 
sion stands  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  and  is  almost  encircled  by  trees. 
In  front  opens  a  most  living  and  peaceful  landscape,  and  the  mind 
of  the  visitor  is  injpressed  with  the  princely  manner  of  life  enjoyed 
by  those  who  erected  and  inhabited  the  old  pile.  It  is,  in  form, 
three  sides  of  a  quadrangle,  and  the  main  entrance-door  on  the  west 
side  of  the  noble  court-yard  is  adorned  on  cither  side  with  a  full 
length  figure  of  a  Knight  Templar,  in  the  peculiar  dress  of  that 
order;  while  over  the  doorway  is  the  bust  of  some  person,  either 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  231 

real  or  fabulous.  The  battlements  around  the  top  of  the  house, 
facing  the  court-yard,  are  ornamented  with  mottoes  in  large  Piomaa 
capitals,  which,  as  nearly  as  I  could  copy  them,  are  as  follows  : — 

^'  All  glory  and  praise  be  given  to  God,  the  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost  on  high. 

Peace  on  earth  and  good  will  towards  men  ;  and 

Honor  and  true  allegiance  to  our  gracious  King,  and 
loving  affection  amongst  his  subjects. 

Health  and  plenty  be  within  this  house." 

The  letters  have  a  singular  appearance,  and  the  old  mansion, 
with  its  strange  ornaments  and  antiquated  look,  comes  nearer  to 
my  ideal  of  a  baronial  hall  than  any  other  building  I  saw  in  the 
land.  It  is  the  very  place  for  happiness,  and  its  historical  asso- 
ciations, aside  from  the  charms  thrown  over  it  by  the  novelist, 
make  it  a  place  of  interest;  and  the  man  who  could  not  enjoy  life 
within  its  great  walls  should  be  compelled  to  live  in  the  filthy 
town,  whose  tall  tapering  chimneys  and  black  smoke  rise  in  full 
view  from  the  rear  of  the  mansion. 

Seven  miles  distant,  I  distinctly  saw  the  dark  vapors  from  its 
countless  manufactories,  hovering  over  the  great  cloth  town.  They 
ascended  into  the  pure  air  above,  and  polluted  it  as  you  would  a 
crystal  stream  by  pouring  ink  of  the  blackest  hue  into  its  trans- 
parent waters.  Where  I  stood,  the  atmosphere  was  pure  and 
uncontaminated,  and  the  dewy  air  was  laden  with  health  to  those 
who  were  fortunate  enough  to  inhale  it,  while  in  the  distant  town 
the  overworked  artisan  and  eager  citizen  were  breathing  an 
element  thick  with  smoke  and  productive  of  disease.  Weary 
and  sore,  I  entered  Leeds,  and  plodded  my  way  along  its  crooked, 
steep,  and  dirty  streets  to  a  comfortable,  and  to  me  welcome  inn, 
at  which  rest  and  quiet  were  to  be  commanded.  After  a  good 
supper,  I  enjoyed  a  night  of  sweet  refreshing  sleep. 


232  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

LEEDS   AND    HER   MANUFACTURES — WORKING  PEOPLE — KIRK- 
STALL  ABBEY. 

Leeds  bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  Sheffield,  and  the  person 
who  visits  both  places  will  at  once  notice  the  fact.  Some  of  the 
principal  streets  of  the  cloth  city  are  clean,  and  as  they  are  well 
paved  with  cubical  blocks  of  stone,  they  present  a  better  appear- 
ance than  any  of  the  thoroughfares  of  Sheffield.  Both  towns 
are  situated  on  hills  and  surrounded  by  hills,  or  nearly  so,  and 
both  abound  in  the  suburbs  in  crooked,  steep,  and  filthy  streets. 
Over  each  there  is  a  continual  cloud  of  smoke,  and  the  clearest 
day  or  brightest  sun  cannot  dispel  the  blackness  from  the  atmo- 
sphere. Here  the  comparison  ends,  and  Leeds,  probably,  has 
the  worst  of  it.  There  is  a  large  number  of  courts,  or,  as  they 
are  locally  termed,  yards,  in  the  town,  and  they  are  the  hotbeds 
of  misery  and  degradation.  They  are  the  slums  of  the  place, 
and  the  residences  of  the  poor,  or  the  workshops  or  business-places 
of  the  small  manufacturers  of  Leeds.  They  are  generally  entered 
through  arched  ways  from  the  streets;  and  there  are  but  few  of 
the  main  thoroughfares,  in  what  may  bo  considered  the  old  part 
of  the  town,  that  do  not  contain  more  inhabitants  in  these  obscure 
courts  and  alleys  than  live  in  the  houses  in  front. 

The  streets  most  deserving  notice  are  Briggate,  North  Street, 
Commercial  Street,  and  Wood-house  Lane.  The  shops  on  the 
first  named  are  quite  imposing,  and  many  of  them  are  as  taste- 
fully fitted  up  as  those  of  Loudon.  The  town  is  situate  on  both 
banks  of  a  stream  about  thirty  yards  wide,  dignified  by  the  name 
of  river;  but  its  black  and  filthy  waters  and  narrow  limits  do  not 
extort  from  the  stranger  admiration. 

The  woollen  manufacture  of  England  is  principally  confined  to 
Yorkshire,  and  Leeds  is  the  centre  of  the  business.     There  are 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  233 

immense  cloth  establishments  in  the  town,  and  large  quantities 
of  cassimeres,  broadcloths,  and  kerseys  are  annually  made  and 
sold  in  it.  The  markets  are  held  on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays,  in 
buildings  erected  expressly  for  the  purpose,  and  nearly  all  the 
sales  take  place  in  those  concerns,  and  at  the  times  named.  The 
manufacturers  or  merchants  assemble  at  a  specified  time,  each 
behind  a  stand  or  counter  on  which  are  exposed  samples  of  goods, 
and  there  the  sales  are  effected.  The  prices  of  cloths  are  much 
lower  than  one  would  suppose.  None  of  those  manufactures  that 
I  saw  exposed  for  sale  exceeded  in  price  twelve  shillings  per  yard 
by  the  piece,  and  none  of  them  were  of  an  inferior  quality  of 
broadcloths.  The  stock  is  usually  large  and  various,  and  the 
purchaser  can  obtain  almost  any  amount  or  quality  of  woollens 
he  desires. 

The  town  is  a  filthy  one,  and  the  constant  cloud  of  black  smoke 
which  hovers  over  it  gives  almost  everything  an  aspect  of  gloom. 
The  houses  are  black,  the  stream  that  flows  through  the  place 
black,  and  some  of  the  inhabitants  are  only  one  shade  lighter  than 
very  many  negroes.  At  the  dinner  hour,  the  streets  are  to 
a  certain  extent  thronged  with  the  operatives  of  the  factories,  and 
their  appearance  is  by  no  means  favorable.  The  women  are  either 
bareheaded  or  barefooted,  and  the  men  are  dressed  in  greasy 
clothes,  or  what  may  properly  be  termed  rags.  Their  faces  bear 
no  marks  of  intellectual  cultivation,  and  their  language  is  a  jargon 
scarcely  intelligible,  while  their  conversation  is  generally  upon 
some  species  of  brutal  amusement.  I  occasionally  went  of  an 
evening  to  a  drinking  concern  where  some  of  them  assembled,  and 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  there  that  impressed  me  with  a  favor- 
able opinion  of  their  morals  or  education.  Drinking  ale  and 
smoking  tobacco  in  long  pipes  were  their  common  evening  amuse- 
ments, and  when  a  little  fuddled  they  indulged  in  most  vulgar  and 
obscene  language.  Gin-palaces  and  ale-houses  absorb  the  greater 
portion  of  their  leisure  time,  and  there  are  but  few  of  them  who 
regularly  attend  the  Mechanics'  Institutes,  or  the  lecture-rooms 
of  the  place.  Some  of  them  are  able  to  read,  but  the  number  of 
such  is  small  in  proportion  to  the  mass  who  cannot,  and  there  is 
but  little  prospect  of  the  rising  generation  being  much  superior  to 

20* 


234  TUE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

the  present  in  that  particular.  One  of  the  principal  causes  which 
operate  to  degrade  the  laborers  and  mechanics  of  the  manufactur- 
ing towns  and  districts  is  the  common  use  of  ale  as  a  beverage, 
both  among  men  and  women.  It  is  considered  indispensable  at 
the  table,  and  a  meal  without  it  is  not  regarded  complete.  The  habit 
of  drinking  grows  with  the  individual  from  childhood,  and  as  he  in- 
creases in  years  he  generally  increases  the  quantity  he  consumes. 
As  an  evidence  of  the  general  use  of  the  article,  I  may  mention 
an  incident  that  occurred  to  me  when  on  my  walk  from  York  to 
Leeds.  I  was  very  thirsty,  and  stopped  at  a  cottage  door,  where 
I  asked  for  a  glass  of  water.  The  woman  looked  at  me  a  while,  and 
told  me  she  had  no  water  on  hand,  but  she  would  sell  me  a  glass 
of  beer,  which  I  of  course  declined.  She  kept  beer  in  the  house, 
but  no  water,  and  that  in  the  country,  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  a  city. 

The  wages  of  the  operatives  at  Leeds  do  not  differ  from  those 
paid  in  other  manufacturing  towns,  and  when  you  ask  the  amount 
usually  given  to  a  person  for  a  particular  service,  the  answer  is  a 
few  shillings  more  or  less  per  week,  but  never  over  a  dollar  per 
day.  Kents  are  high  when  the  taxes  are  taken  into  the  account, 
a  very  important  item  by  the  way,  in  the  English  tenant's  yearly 
expenses,  for  the  landlords  rent  their  houses  with  the  express  un- 
derstanding that  the  renter  is  to  pay  the  church-rates  and  taxes, 
which  usually  amount  to  an  additional  sum  equal  to  one-half  of 
the  rent.  Provisions  are  dearer  than  with  us,  newspapers  are 
about  ten  times  as  expensive,  and  almost  everything  excepting 
the  article  of  clothing  is,  at  a  fair  calculation,  twice  as  costly 
as  the  same  things  are  in  the  United  States,  nor  are  they  as  a 
general  rule  superior  to  ours.  The  meats  and  some  few  fruits 
are  better  than  the  American,  but  the  prices  demanded  are  much 
higher  than  are  paid  in  the  States.  How  the  poor  live  is  a  mystery, 
and  the  only  rational  conclusion  that  can  be  got  at  is  that  they 
do  not  live,  but  drag  out  a  miserable  existence,  in  a  condition  a 
little  better  than  starvation,  and  sustain  their  spirits  by  the  con- 
stant use  of  ale. 

To  say  that  all  the  factory  hands  and  operatives  are  ale-drinkers 
and  ignoramuses  would  be  unjust  to  a  number  of  the  class,  who 


i 


ORj  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  235 

are  in  reality  the  salt  of  the  land,  but  unfortunately  they  are  a 
small  band,  and  cannot  exercise  sufficient  influence  over  the  larger 
class  to  effect  a  visible  improvement  in  the  mass  of  the  present 
generation.  The  temperance  cause  wants  more  advocates  among 
them,  and  those  who  will  go  out  into  the  highways  as  missionaries 
in  the  cause.  A  practical  advocate  of  temperance  could  do  some- 
thing; not  one  who  preaches  total  abstinence  and  practises  ale- 
drinking,  but  one  who  acts  up  to  his  profession.  In  the  days  of 
Franklin,  the  English  workmen  drank  beer,  and  all  the  efforts  of 
that  philosopher  failed  to  effect  a  reformation  among  his  shopmates; 
and  it  will  take  a  man  with  all  of  Franklin's  arguments  and  all 
his  energy  to  destroy  the  fashion  of  drinking  ale  that  prevails  to 
this  day  among  the  English ;  but  it  can  be  done,  and  it  is  to  be 
hoped  that  the  thing  will  be  accomplished,  at  least  partially, 
before  the  rising  generation  reaches  the  years  of  maturity. 

The  Briggate,  or  principal  street  of  the  town,  is  lined  on  both 
sides  to  a  considerable  extent  (of  a  Saturday  evening)  with  booths 
and  stalls  for  the  sale  of  various  articles  of  use  and  comfort.  The 
market  space,  in  a  different  section  of  the  town,  is  the  great  resort, 
and  there  one  can  see  English  low  life  to  perfection  on  a  market 
night.  The  poor  throng  the  place  in  search  of  such  articles  as 
they  can  afford  to  purchase,  and  they  seldom  buy  more  than  a 
few  pounds  of  meat  and  potatoes,  or,  perhaps,  apples  or  pears, 
all  of  which  are  sold  by  weight  in  England.  The  space  is  an  open 
square,  occupied  on  market-day  by  such  as  obtain  the  privilege  of 
a  place.  The  collection  is  a  motley  one,  and  the  observer  can 
see,  arranged  around  in  carts,  on  stalls,  or  on  the  ground,  quanti- 
ties of  earthenware,  hardware,  potatoes,  apples,  peas,  calicoes,  hats, 
shoes,  and  trumpery  of  every  description.  Men,  women,  and 
children,  dressed  indifferently,  crowd  the  alleys  and  keep  up  a 
constant  Babel  with  their  outrageous  pronunciation.  Punch  and 
Judy  shows,  or  something  quite  as  intellectual  and  instructive, 
give  va-iety  to  the  medley  3  and  a  wandering  German  boy  may 
be  met  in  one  section  with  his  organ,  playing,  in  no  unmusical 
strains,  the  sweet  and  plaintive  air  of  "  0!  Susannah,  don't  you 
cry  for  me  !"  or  the  once  cherished  American  song  of  "  Carry 
me  back  to  Old  Virginny's  shore  !"     It  is  strange  to  hear  these 


23 G  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

tunes  of  a  Saturday  night,  in  an  English  town,  gushing  from  the 
pipes  of  an  instrument  manufactured  on  the  lihine,  and  borne 
about  by  a  fairhaired  boy  from  Bavaria.  I  met  such  minstrels 
often  in  ray  rambles,  and  travelled  for  miles  with  them  along  the 
secluded  lanes  and  by-ways  of  Old  England ;  and  let  others  say 
what  they  please  against  the  itinerant  organ,  I  ask  to  be  allowed 
the  indulgence  of  my  taste  in  listening  to  the  much  abused  and 
despised  instrument,  particularly  when  playing  in  my  dreaming 
ear  in  a  foreign  clime  the  sweet  airs  of  the  land  which  is  my  birth- 
right. 

Through  the  friendship  and  influence  of  an  American  gentleman, 
resident  in  Leeds,  I  was  enabled  to  visit  one  of  the  large  woollen 
establishments  of  the  town.  The  factory  is  distant  a  few  miles 
from  the  city,  and  as  every  branch  of  the  business  of  cloth-making, 
from  the  raw  article  to  the  perfect  finish,  is  carried  on  in  the  con- 
cern, there  was  abundant  opportunity  afforded  me  for  careful 
observation.  The  manner  of  manufacture  and  the  machinery  did 
not  impress  me  as  different  from  what  we  have  in  use;  and,  except 
the  quality  of  the  cloths  and  the  extent  of  the  place,  there  was 
nothing  deserving  particular  mention.  The  manufactures  con- 
sisted of  cassimeres,  broadcloths,  and  kerseys,  of  various  qualities 
and  styles,  the  principal  portion  of  which  was  dyed  in  the  piece. 
One  of  the  workmen  conducted  me  through  the  building,  and  as 
he  was  rather  talkative,  he  ventured  to  make  an  advocate  of  free 
trade  of  me,  and  stated  that  our  protective  tariff  was  of  little  con- 
sequence, as  it  was  systematically  and  successfully  evaded  by 
several  extensive  woollen  houses  in  Leeds,  the  partners  in  which 
had  their  agents  in  the  United  States  for  the  express  purpose  of 
smuggling.  His  statement  may  be  true,  and  as  he  spoke  confi- 
dently, he  certainly  believed  it  himself. 

In  my  endeavors  to  obtain  statistical  information  respecting 
manufactures,  and  other  matters  of  importance,  I  found  groat  dif- 
ficulty, and  was  often  surprised  at  the  small  number  of  persons, 
even  among  those  who  might  be  presumed  to  know,  who  were  able 
to  give  rac  reliable  information  of  the  character  I  sought.  StAtis- 
tics  do  not  receive  so  much  attention  in  England  as  in  the  United 
States,  and  it  is  only  the  few  who  take  an  interest  in  them.     In 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  237 

my  endeavors  to  learn  something  of  the  number  of  woollen  facto- 
ries in  Leeds,  I  met  with  no  encouragement  whatever.  The  editors 
and  publishers  of  newspapers  knew  nothing  of  the  matter,  and  all 
looked  astonished  when  I  asked  the  question.  It  may  be  stated 
as  a  fact,  without  fear  of  contradiction,  that  there  are  not  fifty 
persons  in  Leeds  who  can  tell  the  exact  number  of  woollen  manu- 
factories in  the  town,  although  it  is  the  centre  of  the  cloth  trade 
in  Yorkshire,  and  contains  more  establishments  in  that  line  than 
any  other  town  in  England.  Through  the  kindness,  and  com- 
mendable determination  to  serve  me,  of  one  of  the  clerks  in  a  news- 
paper-office, I  obtained  a  statement  of  the  number  of  spindles  and 
hands  employed,  and  as  it  is  an  abridgment  from  a  parliamentary 
report  it  is  reliable.  Other  manufactures  are  named;  but  it  is  to 
the  cloth  business  that  I  confine  myself.  There  were  in  York- 
shire, in  1850,  five  hundred  and  thirty-two  woollen  factories  for 
spinning  only — the  greatest  number  in  any  one  place  being  in 
Leeds — with  629,838  spindles,  and  an  aggregate  horse-power, 
steam  and  water  combined,  of  7431;  furnishing  employment  for 
20,153  persons,  of  which  number  5063  were  females  above  thir- 
teen years,  and  5819  boys,  from  thirteen  to  eighteen  years  of  age, 
the  balance  being  males  above  eighteen.  Of  weaving  factories 
there  were  180  in  the  county,  employing  295,611  spindles,  3604 
power-looms,  and  14,002  hands,  of  whom  7000  were  females.  Of 
other  woollen  factories,  not  enumerated  in  the  above,  there  were 
159,  employing  6128  persons,  the  number  of  spindles,  &c.,  not 
being  named.  This  does  not  include  the  worsted  mills,  which, 
although,  strictly  speaking,  woollen  manufactories,  are  arranged 
under  another  head.  The  number  of  yards  of  cloth  annually  ma- 
nufactured is  not  given,  nor  are  the  wages  stated;  but  it  appears 
that  there  has  been  an  increase  throughout  the  kingdom,  since 
1834,  of  51  per  cent,  in  the  woollen  and  worsted  factories,  and 
an  increase  of  hands  employed  of  116  per  cent.  The  consump- 
tion of  foreign  and  colonial  wools,  which  form  less  than  one-half 
of  that  consumed,  has  advanced  64  per  cent,  in  the  same  period. 
From  this  statement,  necessarily  much  abridged,  it  will  be  ob- 
served that  the  manufacture  is  extensive,  and  its  increase  astonish- 


238 

ing.     The  mills  in  Wales  and  the  West  of  England  are  but  few 
compared  with  those  of  Yorkshire. 

Leeds  is  not  famous  for  any  events  in  the  history  of  England, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  a  ruined  abbey  a  short  distance  from 
the  town,  has  no  monuments  of  antiquity.  The  old  monastery  is 
in  the  usual  form  of  a  cross,  and  although  built  of  common  and 
rough  stone,  it  is  massive  and  imposing.  Like  all  similar  struc- 
tures, it  lies  in  a  secluded  valley,  near  a  stream,  and  its  great  ex- 
tent, even  in  decay,  tells  plainly  how  important  it  was  in  bygone 
years.  Cattle  were  quietly  feeding  within  its  walls  when  I  was 
there,  and  my  echoing  tread  scared  a  flock  of  rooks  from  their 
nests  in  the  dark  ruin,  and  caused  them  to  wheel  through  the  air, 
screaming  and  cawing  above  my  head.  Cattle  and  crows  are  the 
present  occupants  of  the  once  holy  abode  of  the  abbot,  the  bishop, 
and  the  monk.     How  wonderful  are  thy  changes,  0  Time ! 


I 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

HARROWGATE — KNARESBOROUGH EUGENE    ARAISI — RIPON — 

FOUNTAIN  ABBEY — BRIMHAM  ROCKS — REFLECTIONS. 

I  LOVE  the  deep,  fadeless  green  of  the  English  landscape,  and 
glory  in  a  ramble  along  the  roads,  when  the  sun  is  bright,  and 
the  native  birds  sing  sweetly  from  the  gay  hedges.  Others  may 
fly  through  the  island  at  railway  speed;  but  give  me  the  roads, 
the  glorious  roads  of  old  England,  for  a  ramble,  and  I'll  enjoy  the 
scenery  and  the  attractions  around,  as  none  can  enjoy  them  but 
the  pedestrian.  By  rail,  things  are  seen  as  we  sec  the  passing 
beauties  of  a  moving  panorama,  for  a  moment  only;  but  the 
"  view  afoot"  is  far  otherwise.  You  unroll  the  scene  at  your 
pleasure — you  gaze  on  what  interests  you  most,  until  your  senses 
become  intoxicated  with  the  beauty  of  nature  or  the  allurements 
of  art,  and  feel  that  you  arc  really  reaping  advantages  unknown 


239 

to  those  who  move,  mere  birds  of  passage,  over  the  country,  aud 
not  through  it. 

The  land  may  be  uneven,  but  the  roads  are  smooth  and  level, 
and  so  admirably  constructed  as  to  extort  admiration  from  him 
•whose  lot  it  is  to  ramble  at  will  along  them.  It  is  worth  an 
American's  while  to  go  to  England,  if  for  nothing  but  to  see 
the  splendid  roads  and  soft  verdure  of  the  fields.  There  is 
scarcely  a  turnpike  in  the  island  that  is  not  as  smooth  as  a  floor, 
and  in  many  places  I  have  seen  men  repairing  them  where  it  was 
impossible  for  me  to  discover  a  necessity  for  their  doing  so. 
When  away  from  the  towns,  you  are  away  from  the  smoke  that 
envelops  them,  and  live  in  an  atmosphere  healthful  and  pure. 
Nature  and  science  enrich  the  landscape,  the  villages  have  an  an- 
cient, indescribable  air,  and  the  rustic  population  is  in  strong  con- 
trast with  the  refined  and  educated  middle  class  of  the  realm. 
There  is  a  want  of  independence  in  the  English  peasant,  growing 
out  of  his  admiration  of  wealth  and  titles,  that  degrades  him,  and 
makes  him  appear  servile  to  an  American.  He  is  rude  and 
ignorant,  but  neither  impudent  nor  forward  to  those  he  considers 
his  equals,  in  which  respect  he  differs  greatly  from  the  Irish. 
He  has  some  dignity  of  character  even  with  his  rudeness,  and 
when  made  an  equal  by  those  whose  circumstances  are  better 
than  his,  seldom  assumes  to  himself  that  importance  so  readily 
put  on  by  the  Hibernian  peasant  when  a  superior  person  is  dis- 
posed to  be  sociable  with  him.  There  is  a  wide  difference  between 
the  two  classes  of  peasantry,  and  I  am  ready  to  confess  the  En- 
glish infinitely  the  superior. 

On  the  road  from  Leeds  to  Harrowgate,  there  was  opportunity 
afforded  me  to  observe  their  way  of  living,  but  it  did  not  differ 
from  what  I  saw  in  other  sections.  It  was  the  old  story  as  to 
wages,  and  the  same  statement  as  to  food.  Many  of  them  had 
never  been  ten  miles  from  home,  and  either  did  not,  or  pretended 
not  to  know  anything  about  the  country.  Some  of  them  were 
able  to  tell  how  far  it  was  to  the  next  village,  provided  they  lived 
within  two  or  three  miles  of  it,  but  it  seldom  occurred  that  I  met 
one  whose  knowledge  of  the  country  extended  beyond  that  dis- 
tance from  where  he  resided.     I  several  times  asked  how  far  I 


240  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIOnWAY; 

was  from  Ilarrowgato,  when  within  eight  miles  of  the  place,  and 
one  said,  "  I  doon't  knaw !"  another  scratched  his  head  and  reckoned 
"  it  be  five  miles ;"  while  a  third  made  it  ten.  There  was  an 
evident  indiflference  as  to  a  knowledge  of  the  country  about  them 
that  surprised  me,  and  an  adherence  to  the  customs  of  their  fath- 
ers quite  in  character  with  their  ignorance  of  the  world  outside 
of  the  villages  in  which  they  dwelt. 

Harrowgate  is  celebrated  for  its  mineral  springs,  is  a  fashionable 
resort,  and  pleasant  residence.  The  principal  portion  of  it  stands 
on  an  elevated  plateau,  which  commands  a  splendid  prospect  of 
the  country  in  every  direction ;  taking  in,  in  clear  weather,  a  dis- 
tant view  of  York  Minster,  and  the  dreary  wolds  of  the  East 
Riding  of  Yorkshire.  The  town  is  built  principally  around  the 
outer  edge  of  a  circle,  footpaths  leading  through  the  centre,  but 
no  roads.  Hotels  are  numerous,  and  the  visitor  can  be  accommo- 
dated at  a,  cost  of  from  four  to  twenty  shillings  per  day,  according 
to  his  propensity  to  be  fashionable.  The  springs  are  highly  com- 
mended by  the  medical  profession  for  their  mineral  properties,  and 
are  usually  well  attended.  They  were  discovered  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  sixteenth  century  by  an  English  nobleman,  whose 
estate  inclosed  them,  after  he  had  been  running  all  over  the  Con- 
tinent to  derive  benefits  from  the  most  celebrated  springs  there. 
The  story  goes  that  he  returned  in  a  more  feeble  condition  than 
he  left,  and  was  cured  at  last  by  the  medicinal  water  which  he 
had  ignorantly  neglected  at  his  own  door. 

The  place  is  amply  provided  with  lodging-houses,  and  comforts 
arc  readily  obtained.  I  was  fortunate  in  procuring  quarters  with 
an  old  widow  lady,  whose  father,  she  informed  me,  was  an  Ameri- 
can citizen,  but  not  a  very  good  one,  I  fear,  as  she  cxultingly  stated 
that  ho  was  a  spectator  of  the  engagement  between  the  Shannon 
and  Chesapeake  from  Boston  Harbor,  and  inwardly  gloried  when 
he  saw  the  English  frigate  capture  the  American.  I  sarcastically 
intimated  that  her  father,  if  an  American  citizen  by  adoption  at 
the  time,  was  what  might  be  called  a  perjured  man  without  fear 
of  contradiction,  and  therefore  no  credit  to  her.  She  said  but 
little  more  about  him,  but  trcat<id  me  with  marked  kindness  and 
regard. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  241 

Knaresborough  lies  about  three  miles  to  the  east  of  Harrowgate, 
and  although  famous  for  its  ruined  castle,  and  the  siege  it  sus- 
tained during  the  civil  wars,  is  more  frequently  visited  on  account 
of  the  celebrated  Eugene  Aram,  than  for  either  the  beauty  of 
its  location,  or  the  curiosities  in  its  vicinity,  of  which  there  are  not 
a  few.  The  town  is  romantically  situated  on  the  Nidd,  a  rapid 
stream  which  foams  through  a  valley  hemmed  in  by  towering  rocks 
and  high  perpendicular  banks.  The  ruins  of  the  castle  are  bold 
and  jagged,  and  stand  like  the  town,  on  a  lofty  cliff  which  over- 
hangs the  roaring,  dashing  little  river.  It  was  one  of  the  prisons 
of  Richard  the  Second,  and  afforded  shelter  to  Fitz  Urse,  De 
Tracy,  Brito,  and  Sir  Hugh  de  Morville,  the  murderers  of  Thomas 
a  Becket,  in  the  days  of  Henry  the  Second.  A  storm  came  up 
while  I  was  rambling  around  its  walls,  and  the  old  gateway  over 
the  dungeon  afforded  me  protection  from  the  rain,  one  of  the  best 
uses  probably  ever  made  of  it. 

The  church,  a  fine  specimen  of  Gothic  architecture,  contains  the 
tombs  of  the  Slingsby  family,  a  once  powerful  name  in  the  manor 
of  Knaresborough,  now  extinct.  There  lay  the  efiigies  of  the 
dead  in  coats  of  mail,  stretched  at  full  length  on  the  musty  tombs. 
They  are  sad  and  solemn,  and  the  beholder  is  half  inclined  to  be- 
lieve the  figures  are  those  of  petrified  men. 

Nearly  opposite  the  castle,  across  the  river,  is  what  is  called  a 
dropping  well,  being  nothing  more,  however,  than  a  small  stream 
of  water  possessing  petrifying  qualities  conducted  over  a  rock,  so 
as  to  be  continually  dropping  into  the  reservoir  below.  St.  Ro- 
bert's Cave  is  a  short  distance  down  the  river,  and  the  cupidity  of 
the  owners  has  prompted  them  to  convert  it  into  a  show,  at  a 
shilling  per  head.  It  will  be  remembered  that  it  was  at  this  cave 
that  a  skeleton  was  discovered  in  1759,  which  led  to  the  arrest, 
trial,  and  execution  of  Eugene  Aram,  a  name  made  celebrated  by 
the  eloquence  of  him  who  bore  it,  and  the  genius  of  Bulwer. 
Recent  excavations  have  been  made  in  the  vicinity,  and  a  grave 
discovered  in  the  ruins  of  a  small  chapel,  located  immediately  in 
front  of  the  cave,  but  no  human  remains  found  in  it.  Some  per- 
sons consider  this  a  strong  argument  in  favor  of  Aram's  innocence 
of  the  crime  for  which  he  suffered,  and  as  it  is  known  that  the 
21 


242  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

hermit  died,  and  was  buried  near  the  cell,  it  is  presumed  that,  as 
there  were  no  bones  discovered  in  the  grave,  those  said  to  have 
been  Clark's  (the  murdered  man's),  were  in  reality  the  remains  of 
the  anchorite.  But  whether  guilty  or  not,  Aram  suffered  death, 
and  was  hung  in  chains  and  quartered  near  the  town,  as  a  terror 
to  evil  doers;  and  if  it  be  ascertained  at  this  late  date  that  he 
died  innocently,  all  we  can  do  is  to  remove  the  stigma  of  murder 
from  his  character,  and  place  him  among  those  who  have  forfeited 
their  lives  to  the  blind  prejudice  and  wilful  credulity  of  an  igno- 
rant age.  The  house  in  which  he  taught  school  stands  where  it 
stood  when  he  instructed  youth  within  its  walls,  but  it  no  longer 
echoes  to  the  murmurs  of  slothful  urchins  in  the  act  of  conning 
over  lessons,  but  is  used  as  an  ale-brewery.  Some  of  the  inhabit- 
ants with  whom  I  conversed  were  firm  believers  in  the  school- 
master's guilt,  and  as  they  were  taught  in  their  childhood  to  con- 
sider him  a  murderer,  it  would  be  a  difficult  task  to  convince  them 
of  his  innocence  now. 

The  town  has  crooked,  steep,  narrow,  irregular  streets,  but  is 
still  a  most  picturesque  place;  and  a  splendid  railway  bridge  over 
the  Nidd  adds  to  its  romantic  appearance  in  connection  with  the 
scarred  and  jagged  ruins  of  the  castle.  There  is  a  dreamy  air 
about  it,  reminding  one  of  the  olden  time,  and  the  curfew  is 
rung  nightly  within  its  bounds,  but  only  as  a  custom  of  the  Nor- 
man rule,  and  under  far  different  regulations  from  those  imposed 
by  William  the  Conqueror.  In  his  days  the  sound  of  the  curfew 
was  a  signal  for  extinguishing  all  lights  and  fires  under  a  penalty 
of  punishment  or  fine;  but,  at  this  period,  the  bell,  which 
usually  tolls  at  eight  o'clock  in  tho  evening,  is  no  more  than 
the  harmless  continuation  of  a  custom  which  originated  in  a  bar- 
barous age  for  the  protection  of  conquerors  against  the  probable 
revolt  of  a  subjugated  people.  Knaresborough  was  burned  by  the 
Normans,  and  suffered  severely  in  tho  conflicts  between  rival 
factions  in  subsequent  years. 

The  curfew  is  rung  in  nearly  all  the  cathedral  towns  of  Eng- 
land, and  many  of  the  smaller  places.  I  have  often  listened  to 
the  boll  at  a  distance  as  the  sound  came  floating  over  lowly  mead 
and  bosky  dell^  and  as  the  tones  of  the  iron  monitor  trembled  in 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  243 

the  air  my  thoughts  would  involuntarily  go  back  to  the  age  of 
conquest,  when  mailed  warrior  and  rustic  churl  obeyed  alike  its 
summons  on  the  very  ground  whereon  I  stood. 

About  eleven  miles  north  of  Harrowgate  stands  the  beautiful  city 
of  E-ipon,  on  an  elevated  piece  of  ground  near  two  inconsiderable 
streams,  the  Ure  and  Skell,  and  on  the  edge  of  the  moors,  although 
in  a  productive  and  highly  cultivated  part  of  Yorkshire.  It  is 
ancient,  and  contains  a  cathedral  of  fine  proportions,  the  main 
attraction  of  the  place.  I  was  conducted  through  its  lengthened 
nave  and  lofty  choir,  and  whilst  within  its  walls  the  impressive 
service  of  the  English  Church  was  begun,  and  the  sweet  tones  of 
the  rich  organ  filled  the  interior  with  a  flood  of  harmonious 
sounds  in  conjunction  with  the  fine  voices  of  the  youthful 
choristers.  The  building  is  imposing,  though  not  very  large. 
Under  the  chapter-house  there  is  a  charnel  full  of  human  bones, 
piled  up  in  regular  order  around  the  walls  like  so  many  articles 
of  trade.  There  are  hills  of  skulls  with  their  lustreless  and  eyeless 
sockets  turned  on  the  beholder,  and  arms  and  other  bones  arranged 
like  pieces  of  wood.  Those  who  like  such  exhibitions  can  satisfy 
their  curiosity  and  indulge  their  tastes  in  Ripon  Cathedral ;  but 
I  beg  to  be  excused  hereafter  from  visiting  such  museums,  no 
matter  where  they  may  be  located.  The  city  has  but  few  other 
attractions;  the  chief  of  which  is  an  obelisk  of  some  ninety  feet  in 
height  in  the  market  space,  and  it  can  be  seen  at  a  distance  of 
several  miles.  As  there  are  but  few,  if  any  manufactories  at 
Piipon,  it  has  a  clear  atmosphere,  and  quiet,  neat  aspect. 

I  walked  out  to  Studley  Royal,  the  seat  of  Earl  Grey,  one  of 
those  magnificent  abodes  of  the  nobility  for  which  England  is 
so  famous.  My  route  was  agreeable,  and  as  I  turned  occasionally 
towards  the  town,  the  tall  market  cross  and  stately  fane  rose  full 
to  view.  Many  of  the  houses  on  the  road-side  were  overhung 
with  ivy  and  jessamine  flowers,  bright  beautiful  homes,  the  seem- 
ing abodes  of  content.  Hedgerows  flanked  the  turnpike,  and  the 
gardens  of  the  cottages  were  rich  in  exotic  and  other  flowers. 

I  turned  from  the  road  into  an  old  path,  one  of  those  ancient 
privileges  the  sturdy  Britons  so  ardently  contend  for  against  the 
rapacity  of  landholders,  and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  entered 


244  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHWAY; 

the  park  of  Studlcy  Royal.  The  grounds  are  laid  out  in  drives 
and  walks,  lined  with  fine  old  shade  trees.  Upwards  of  four  hun- 
dred deer  of  Tarious  kinds  were  feeding  on  the  sward  or  reposing 
in  groups  beneath  the  oaks,  and  as  my  truant  step  disturbed  them 
they  would  bound  away  into  the  denser  forest  or  to  the  rich  mea- 
dows in  the  distance.  About  midway  of  the  park  I  turned  into 
a  walk  leading  under  an  archway  formed  by  a  number  of  tall  beech 
trees  whose  branches  intertwined  like  the  groinings  of  a,  Gothic 
roof  in  some  lofty  minster,  and  emerged  upon  the  shore  of  an 
artificial  lake  formed  by  damming  up  the  waters  of  the  Skell. 
The  scene  was  sylvan  and  peaceful.  A  little  further  beyond,  I 
entered  the  lodge,  and  after  paying  a  small  fee  for  a  guide  visited 
the  principal  objects  of  interest  in  the  grounds.  The  river  is  a 
mere  rill,  not  more  than  ten  yards  wide ;  but  art  has  done  much 
to  make  it  beautiful,  and  it  flows  for  a  considerable  distance  be- 
tween walls  of  stone  in  a  straight  line,  which  are  covered  with 
perennial  verdure.  Lodges  and  temples  are  interspersed  among 
the  trees  and  along  the  stream,  and  many  good  copies  of  antique 
sculpture  are  placed  at  favorable  points  throughout  the  parks. 
The  ruins  of  Fountain  Abbey,  justly  regarded  the  noblest  of  the 
kind  in  the  country,  lie  in  a  secluded  valley  near  the  Skell  in  the 
confines  of  the  park.  The  site  of  the  monastery  was  well  chosen. 
It  was  granted  to  several  monks  who  adopted  the  Cistercian  order, 
by  Archbishop  Thurston,  in  1132;  and,  although  the  originators 
of  the  establishment  were  poor,  and  the  place  suifored  severely  by 
fire  in  its  early  history,  it  eventually  became  one  of  the  most 
wealthy  monasteries  in  the  kingdom.  The  buildings  were  immense 
and  numerous,  and  as  the  church  and  cloisters  are  in  excel- 
lent preservation,  there  is  much  to  interest  the  student  of  architec- 
ture. Extensive  excavations  made  within  a  few  years  have  re- 
vealed foundations  lost  to  sight  for  ages.  These  are  clearly  the 
remains  of  detached  buildings  used  by  officers  of  the  establisliment 
in  its  palmy  days,  when  it  was  the  hostelrie  of  the  weary  traveller 
and  home  of  the  friendless  and  poor.  A  quantity  of  silver  coins, 
in  all  three  hundred  and  fifty-four  pieces,  bearing  date  1G40,  was 
exhumed  at  the  time,  and  the  conclusion  is  that  they  were  buried 
among  the  ruins  in  the  civil  wars.     The  interior  of  the  church  is 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  245 

imposing,  its  arches  and  columns  being  curtained  with  ivy.  The 
entire  length  is  about  three  hundred  feet,  including  the  lady 
chapel.  The  tower,  one  hundred  and  sixty-six  feet  high,  is  in  a 
good  state  of  preservation — solid,  massive,  and  grand.  It  is 
adorned  with  several  Latin  inscriptions  in  black  letter.  The 
transepts  are  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet  long,  the  nave  one 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  feet,  and  the  cloisters,  the  most  perfect 
section  of  the  ruins,  three  hundred  feet  in  length.  They  are 
groined  and  arched  throughout  the  entire  distance.  They  do  not, 
as  in  other  monasteries,  form  the  sides  of  a  quadrangle,  but  are 
in  a  straight  line.  To  the  south  of  the  building,  near  the  cloisters, 
are  several  large  yew-trees,  said  to  be  full  thirteen  hundred  years 
old,  under  which  the  monks  are  represented  to  have  taken  shelter 
during  the  erection  of  the  abbey.  The  Norman,  early  English, 
and  pointed  Gothic  styles  abound  in  various  sections,  it  having 
been  erected  at  different  periods  from  1132  to  1494,  the  date  of 
the  building  of  the  tower,  the  last  addition  to  the  sacred  pile.  My 
guide  was  an  intelligent  countryman,  very  anxious  to  give  me  all 
the  information  respecting  the  ruin  he  possessed ;  and  as  we  were 
turning  from  the  lady  chapel,  he  directed  my  attention  to  a  stone 
coffin,  in  which  he  stated  Henry  Percy,  first  Earl  of  North- 
umberland, was  buried  in  1315,  but  both  the  lid  and  remains  have 
gone  to  dust,  so  that  the  grave  is  tenantless.  It  may  have  been 
Percy's  tomb,  hut  not  Percy  the  first;  lie  came  with  William  the 
Conqueror,  in  1000,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  he  lived  three  hun- 
dred years ! 

The  establishment  was  complete  in  its  entire  economy,  and  the 
old  mill,  in  which  the  meal  used  by  the  monks  was  manufactured, 
is  used  to  this  day  for  grinding  corn. 

After  a  stay  of  several  hours,  I  took  my  departure  for  Harrow- 
gate,  and  walked  through  a  dreary  country,  along  secluded  lanes 
and  by-paths,  to  the  Brimham  Rocks,  a  number  of  huge  and 
singularly  disposed  rocks,  of  strange  shapes  and  various  sizes, 
conjectured  to  have  been  the  principal  altars  of  the  Druids,  in  the 
north  of  England.  As  I  approached  them,  they  presented  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  ruined  city  scattered  over  an  immense  surface;  and 
when  among  them,  I  saw  but  little  that  bore  marks  of  human 

21* 


246 

labor  or  ingenuity.  The  old  man  who  haunted  them  pointed  out 
several  for  which  he  had  particular  names,  and  those  used  as  high 
altars  by  the  Druids.  The  scene  was  dreary  and  desolate;  the 
fierce  winds  from  the  north-west  moaned  among  the  weather-worn 
rocks,  and  howled  across  the  sterile  moors;  while  the  flying  clouds 
and  dull  sky  threw  a  shade  of  awe  over  the  solitary  waste.  I  was 
not  in  a  mood  to  encourage  the  talkative  hermit  of  the  place,  and, 
slowly  plodding  my  way  homeward,  I  fell  into  a  train  of  reflec- 
tions upon  the  scenes  I  witnessed  during  the  day,  and  the  events 
that  had  transpired  in  the  country  through  which  I  was  passing. 
Years  ago,  thought  I,  the  rude  Briton  trod  these  barren  hills, 
roamed  in  savage  independence  over  these  moors,  and  bowed  in 
fear  and  wonder  to  the  Druid  brethren,  whose  simple  altars  stand 
to  this  day  in  solitary  grandeur  upon  the  spot  where  the  doctrines 
of  their  order  were  undisputed.  Then  came  the  warrior  cohorts 
of  Home,  in  victorious  marches,  and  the  sheen  of  their  spears  and 
helmets  flashed  in  the  sunlight.  As  conquerors,  they  advanced 
civilization  at  the  dagger's  point,  and  set  up  their  gods  in  the 
place  of  the  Druid  deities.  For  four  hundred  years  they  held 
sway;  but  at  last,  when  effeminacy  corrupted  the  lloman  people, 
the  soldier  was  required  at  home.  lie  left  the  land  to  the  mer- 
cies of  the  fearless  Saxon,  and  his  noble  works  and  proud  temples 
to  decay.  The  Danes  came  next,  contending  with  the  Saxons  for 
supremacy,  and  the  land  of  the  natives  was  the  prize.  Wars, 
long  and  terrible,  followed,  and  the  light  of  Christianity  slowly 
burned.  The  religion  of  the  cross  succeeded  the  pagan  rites  of 
the  Briton,  the  lloman,  the  Dane,  and  Saxon.  The  priests  who 
ofiiciated  at  the  shrines  of  those  people  abandoned  their  profcssiou, 
and  the  new  creed  became  supremo.  Abbeys  and  monasteries 
arose.  The  brethren  of  the  cowl  and  crozier  exerted  an  influence 
over  the  minds  of  the  people  equal  to  unlimited  power.  The  Cod- 
queror  came,  and  the  Saxon  and  Briton  were  the  Norman's  slaves. 
Castles  were  built,  feudal  systems  established,  domestic  dissensions 
created,  wars  followed,  and  rival  houses  strove  for  supremacy. 
A  corrupt  king  expelled  the  monks,  and  the  monasteries  became 
deserted  places.  They  are  now  the  abodes  of  the  rook  and  bit- 
tern, the  bat  and  the  owl.     Race  followed  race,  nation  succeeded  , 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  247 

to  nation,  religion  to  religion.  These  wild  hills  have  witnessed 
the  ceremonies  of  all  creeds,  from  ''Jove  to  Jesus/'  and  the 
tendencies  of  the  times  are  still  onward,  and  for  change — onward 
in  the  dissemination  of  the  brilliant  light  of  an  evangelical  gospel, 
and  the  redemption  and  elevation  of  man.  How  vain  is  the  boast 
of  nations  that  proclaim  themselves  unconquerable !  How  idle  the 
hyperbole  of  oriental  compliment,  "  May  the  king  live  forever" — 
the  fiction  of  modern  legitimacy,  "  The  king  never  dies  V 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

A  WALK WAKEFIELD — VALLEY  OF  THE  CALDER — ROCHDALE 

queen's     visit     to     MANCHESTER     AND     LIVERPOOL — EATON 
HALL. 

A  CLEAR  day  is  a  blessing  to  the  pedestrian,  and  then  a  walk  of 
a  few  miles  can  be  enjoyed,  even  without  company.  By  returning 
to  Leeds  and  proceeding  to  Wakefield  on  foot,  I  attained  an  object 
and  derived  pleasure.  The  wind  was  rather  high,  but  the  way 
level  and  easy  of  travel,  although  it  did  not  furnish  much  to 
write  about.  The  country  presented  some  quiet  scenery,  and  con- 
siderable diversity  of  soil  and  natural  products,  but  there  was 
little  worthy  of  note.  The  road-side  inns  prompted  me  to  seek 
rest  within  them,  and  I  yielded  to  their  invitations.  Shen- 
stone  wrote  in  their  praise,  and  although  times  and  customs  have 
changed  since  his  day,  I  bear  willing  testimony  to  the  kindness 
and  attention  of  the  landlords  and  domestics  of  these  houses 
of  entertainment,  and  can  repeat  with  approval  the  lines  of  th^ 
bard : — 

"Whoe'er  has  travelled  life's  dull  round, 

Where'er  his  stages  may  hare  been, 
May  sigh  to  think  he  still  has  found 

The  warmest  welcome  at  an  inn!" 

Wakefield  is  a  small  manufacturing  town  on  the  Calder,  a  stream 
of  contracted  dimensions,    and   not   deserving   of   the   name  of 


248  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

river.  The  streets  do  not  differ  much  in  appearance  from  those 
of  the  generality  of  English  towns,  and  the  principal  objects  of 
interest  are  an  old  church,  the  spire  of  which  is  the  highest  in 
the  county,  and  a  small  chapel  built  at  the  side  of  a  bridge,  on  a 
little  island  in  the  Calder,  by  order  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  to 
commemorate  the  deeds  of  his  father  and  several  hundred  followers, 
who  fell  in  an  engagement  near  the. town.  It  is  a  small  florid 
Gothic  building,  neat,  airy,  and  clean ;  and  curious  in  consequence 
of  its  strange  location. 

Scenery  is  all  well  enough  to  behold,  but  tedious  from  descrip- 
tion, no  matter  how  varied.  The  valley  of  the  Calder  is  romantic, 
abounds  in  villages,  and  is  the  seat  of  countless  manufactories.  I 
wandered  through  it  for  some  miles,  but  as  there  was  nothing 
particularly  deserving  attention,  and  incidents  were  few,  I  took  to 
the  rail  and  sped  on  past  town  and  hamlet,  over  meadow  and 
moorland,  until  the  train  halted  at  the  black,  smoky,  dull,  grimy 
birthplace  of  Tim  Bobbin,  Rochdale  in  Lancashire,  a  town  of 
considerable  magnitude,  devoted  to  woollen  and  cotton  manufac- 
ture. It  is  almost  as  filthy  as  Stockport,  and  gloomy  as  a  coal-pit. 
I  was  either  in  a  bad  humor  with  everybody  and  everything;  or 
it  was,  just  at  the  time  of  ray  visit,  suffering  from  long  rains, 
clouds  of  smoke,  and  unusual  quantities  of  mud,  things  calculated 
to  spoil  the  beauty  of  any  place.  The  manor  was  once  the 
property  of  the  Byron  family,  and  was  sold  by  the  poet  in  his 
youth  when  he  was  pressed  for  funds,  since  which  time  it  has 
been  in  the  possession  of  the  heirs  of  Mr.  Derden,  the  purchaser. 
Neither  manor,  manufactory,  nor  Ilochdalo  had  power  over  me, 
and  I  pressed  on  to  Manchester,  where  I  arrived  late  in  the  eve- 
ning at  a  time  of  extraordinary  oxcitenient,  bustle,  and  activity, 
being  no  less  than  the  eve,  I  may  say,  of  Her  Biitunnic  Majesty's 
visit  to  the  Jacobinical  borough.  The  streets  were  thronged 
with  people  of  every  grade  and  condition  of  life,  and  triumphal 
arches  were  in  course  of  erection  in  various  sections  of  the  great 
cotton  town.  Barricades  wore  built  along  the  principal  thorough- 
fares through  which  royalty  was  to  pass,  and  stands  wore  con- 
structed at  every  available  point  for  the  purpose  of  affording  those 
who  were  able  and  willing  to  pay  for  it  a  comfortable  place  to 


249 

look  at  the  queen,  who,  according  to  the  published  programmes, 
was  to  be  exhibited  to  her  delighted  Manchester  subjects,  for  the 
first  time,  in  a  day  or  two.  Banners  of  every  possible  color  were 
spread  to  the  breeze,  or  rather  rain,  and  transparencies  of  Victoria 
and  Albert  adorned  the  shop  fronts  of  enthusiastic  tradesmen, 
while  British  lions  and  coats  of  arms  without  number  stared  the 
gazer  in  the  face  at  every  turn.  Thousands  of  pounds  had  been 
appropriated  by  the  loyal  authorities  of  the  borough  for  decora- 
tions, and  large  bills  announced  to  the  populace  that  much  abused 
Manchester  was  fully  determined  to  give  the  sovereign  of  the  realm 
such  a  reception  as  would  prove  to  the  kingdom  how  devoted  were 
the  patriotic  inhabitants  to  the  rights  and  person  of  their  beloved 
queen.  Streets  were  being  dug  up,  and  new  gas-pipes  being  laid 
for  illumination;  and  the  founttiins  in  the  grounds  of  the  infirm- 
ary were  doing  their  best  to  throw  a  jet  of  water  ten  feet  high. 
The  next  morning  dawned  in  torrents  of  rain;  but  no  shower 
could  dampen  the  loyalty  of  the  Manchester  patriots,  and  with 
the  first  faint  streaks  of  returning  day,  the  click  of  the  hammer 
was  heard,  and  labor  was  busy  in  completing  the  preparations  for 
the  royal  reception.  I  walked  along  several  streets  through 
which  the  procession  was  to  pass,  and  everywhere  there  was 
evidence  of  the  cupidity  of  the  people.  At  many  places  were 
enormous  posters,  on  which  were  printed  in  large  letters  the  advan- 
tages particular  stands  possessed  over  others  for  viewing  her 
Majesty,  for  the  sum  of  one  shilling ! 

The  people  were  "  Queen  mad,"  and  her  name  was  on  every  lip.  I 
was  told  by  a  gentleman  resident  in  the  town  that  it  was  the  first 
time  in  nearly  three  hundred  years  that  a  sovereign  had  visited, 
or  made  known  a  determination  to  visit,  that  borough,  and  the 
only  reason  he  could  assign  for  it  was  the  radicalism  of  the  in- 
habitants. ^^  Our  kings  and  queens  of  the  last  centuries,"  said 
he,  "  have  been  taught  to  believe  us  the  most  Jacobinical  set  in 
the  country,  and  for  that  reason  not  one  has  condescended  to 
smile  upon  us  until  now,  when  lo !  no  sooner  is  the  announce- 
ment of  the  intended  visit  made  known  than  we  are  frantic  with 
delight,  and  make  every  exertion  to  receive  our  sovereign  in  a 
style  of  elegance  and  pomp  unparalleled  in  the  nation's  history. 


250  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

We  Lave  either  been  greatly  belied  heretofore,  or  are  the  greatest 
hypocrites  known."  I  inclined  to  the  latter  opinion,  and  told  him 
so,  and,  as  he  entertained  the  same  idea,  we  were  of  one  way  of 
thinking  on  that  point. 

The  order  of  reception  made  it  incumbent  upon  every  shop- 
keeper, merchant,  and  manufacturer  to  close  his  establishment  for 
the  day  so  as  to  afford  all  classes  an  opportunity  of  welcoming 
Victoria  to  the  city  of  spindles.  The  poor  were  anxious  to  appear 
in  their  best,  and  have  a  jollification  on  the  occasion;  and  as  the 
most  of  them  had  not  means  to  spare,  they  crowded  the  pawn- 
brokers' shops  to  pledge  goods  for  funds.  Watches,  trinkets, 
and  even  bedclothes  were  placed  in  pawn  to  supply  a  few  shil- 
lings for  pocket-money,  and  the  two  hours  the  queen  was  in  town 
cost  more  misery  than  it  is  possible  to  estimate.  The  barefooted, 
the  ragged,  and  the  hungry  were  evidently  as  loyal  as  the  well- 
clothed  and  wealthy,  and  their  delight  at  the  approaching  advent 
of  their  sovereign  proved  the  fact. 

My  stay  was  short ;  and  on  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which 
Victoria  was  to  visit  Liverpool,  I  left  Manchester  by  an  early  train 
for  that  city.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents,  but  the  ardor  of  the  people 
was  unchecked.  On  the  line  between  the  two  places  preparations 
were  in  progress  for  the  royal  reception,  and  at  the  station  near 
Worsley,  at  which  place  the  queen  was  to  be  the  guest  of  the 
Earl  of  Ellesmere,  there  was  a  magnificent  triumphal  arch  over 
the  railway,  and  a  covered  avenue  reaching  down  to  the  canal,  a 
distance  of  about  two  hundred  yards,  the  entire  length  of  which 
was  carpeted  with  red  velvet,  while  the  station  was  hung  with 
festoons  of  flowers,  and  banners  from  the  "  haughty  scroll  of  gold," 
or  royal  standard,  to  the  more  familiar  blood-red  cross  of  St. 
George.  From  the  housetops,  along  the  line  of  the  rail,  flags 
were  flying,  and  mottoes  and  devices  ornamented  the  dwellings  of 
some  of  the  more  patriotic  and  enthusiastic. 

When  I  arrived  at  Liverpool,  the  rain  was  falling  heavy  and 
continuous.  The  streets  were  densely  crowded  with  anxious  hu- 
manity, and  the  houses  presented  as  much  scafit»lding  as  those  of 
Manchester.  ]Jarricades  lined  the  f*trects,  and  thousands  of  police- 
men were  stationed  at  convenient  distances  along  the  rout©  to 


J 


261 

preserve  order.  Flags  surged  in  the  dull  heavy  breeze,  and  among 
the  thousands  hung  along  the  line,  I  noticed  several  American, 
and  one  or  two  French.  The  concourse  of  spectators  was  com- 
posed of  all  classes,  and  the  women  faced  the  pelting  storm  with 
a  determination  to  see  "  her  Majesty"  that  was  creditable  to  their 
loyal  curiosity.  All  the  stores  were  closed,  all  business  suspended 
but  that  of  the  rumseller ;  and  the  patriotic  found  it  convenient 
to  wet  the  inner  man  at  the  same  time  the  storm  drenched  the 
outer  one.  Poor  miserable  barefooted  wretches  stood  in  the  cold 
rain  for  hours  awaiting  the  approach  of  the  sovereign.  When  at 
last  Victoria  arrived  at  a  particular  stand  near  where  I  was  sta- 
tioned, some  of  those  on  it  cried  out  ^'  Her  Majesty  nods — Her  Ma- 
jesty approves  !"  and  the  whole  assemblage  appeared  to  have  lost 
their  senses,  and  what  little  independence  they  once  possessed.  I 
positively  believe  they  would  have  gone  down  on  their  knees  to  the 
queen  had  she  requested  them  to  do  so,  or  even  intimated  a  wish 
to  that  effect.  Fortunately  for  the  British  nation,  Victoria  is  a 
plain,  sensible  woman,  and  neither  a  tyrant  nor  lover  of  show,  or 
affairs  might  be  different  from  what  they  are.  She  exhibited  an 
evident  detestation  of  the  fawning  sycophancy  to  which  she  was 
an  unwilling  witness,  and  her  countenance  revealed  her  feelings. 
Public  receptions  are  disliked  by  her,  and  she  is  well  tired  out  of 
being  conducted  about  the  country  and  shown  to  her  subjects  by 
the  fat  aldermen  of  certain  towns,  or  a  designing  few  who  seek 
popularity  by  publicly  feasting  her. 

After  the  procession  passed,  the  streets  presented  a  scene  of 
excitement  and  hilarity  at  once  wild  and  bacchanalian.  Patriot- 
ism gushed  out  in  songs  and  cheers,  and  each  of  the  drenched  spec- 
tators of  the  queen's  entrde^mto  Liverpool  was  a  sovereign  in  his 
own  estimation,  happy  in  the  enjoyments  of  the  day.  Tired  of 
the  place,  I  departed  for  the  old  city  of  Chester,  where  I  spent 
several  days  in  quiet  and  to  advantage.  While  resident  in  it,  I 
visited  "  Eaton  Hall,"  the  princely  mansion  of  the  Marquis  of 
Westminster,  distant  about  three  miles,  in  a  romantic  part  of  the 
country,  on  the  banks  of  the  Dee.  My  walk  was  full  that  extent 
through  the  grounds  of  the  estate  after  passing  the  lodge-gate,  a 
massive  Gothic  arch  of  exquisite  design  and  workmanship,  in 


252  TUE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

which  the  loJgekeeper  and  family  reside.  The  parks  are  in  a 
comparatively  uncultivated  state,  there  being  considerable  under- 
wood and  more  wildness  than  usual  in  such  grounds.  Numerous 
alterations  were  being  made  in  the  drives  and  hall,  which  is  built 
in  the  pointed  Gothic  style,  and  turreted  most  beautifully.  Large 
additions  had  recently  been  made  to  it,  and  when  the  alteration 
it  is  undergoing  shall  have  been  completed,  it  will  exceed,  in 
magnificence,  any  one  of  the  royal  palaces  in  the  realm.  The  re- 
ception-room was  shown  me,  and,  as  it  was  just  from  the  artist's 
hand,  it  had  an  appearance  truly  gorgeous;  and  with  its  rich  tracery 
and  harmonious  coloring,  bright  gilding,  and  Alhambrian  scenery, 
presented  the  reality  of  what  our  imaginations  lead  us  to  suppose 
the  interior  of  an  ancient  Moorish  palace  to  have  been.  And  to 
give  greater  eflfect  to  the  noble  edifice,  a  fine  terrace  stretches 
away  in  front,  laid  out  in  walks  and  beds  of  flowers ;  and  adorned 
with  statuary  and  vases,  the  whole  of  which  is  surrounded  by  a 
beautiful  stone  palisading,  from  which  extends  a  lawn  to  the  River 
Dee.  The  jagged  and  imposing  ruins  of  Beeston  Castle,  with  the 
bold  form  of  the  Welsh  hills,  constitute  the  distant  horizon  line, 
while  the  intervening  space  between  them  and  the  stream  is  a 
rich  landscape,  interspersed  with  farms  and  cottages,  and  thickly 
clustered  with  massy  oaks  and  other  noble  trees.  The  owner  of 
the  palace  occupies  it  but  rarely ;  and  with  all  its  magnificence 
and  extent,  its  wealth  and  costly  keeping,  it  is  only  one  of  the 
many  seats  of  its  possessor.  Next  to  Chatsworth,  it  may  justly 
be  considered  the  noblest  edifice  of  its  kind  in  the  kingdom,  and, 
without  exception,  the  most  superb  modern  Gothic  structure  for 
purely  private  use  in  England,  or,  perhaps,  Europe. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  253 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

WALES — WALK  TO  MOLD  AND  ST.  ASAPH — AN  INCIDENT  AT  AN 
INN — BANGOR  TUBULAR  BRIDGE-— SUSPENSION-BRIDGE — THE 
WELSH   NATIONALITIES. 

Wales  is  a  portion  of  the  dominions  of  Her  Britannic  Majesty 
mainly  visited  in  tiie  summer  season  by  the  denizens  of  England 
for  the  purpose  of  enjoying  the  mountain  air  and  scenery,  and 
passing  a  few  weeks  in  relaxation  from  the  cares  of  business  or 
the  dissipations  of  fashionable  life.  Beaten  routes  are  followed, 
and  certain  places  visited,  and  the  tourist  returns  with  a  pocket 
considerably  lightened,  and  a  vivid  recollection  of  cloud-capped 
hills,  rugged  and  sterile  mountain  sides,  lowly  valleys,  and  peasant 
women,  who  wear  the  hats  of  the  sterner  sex,  and  the  rough 
coarse  boots  of  country  clowns.  But  few  see  the  people  in  their 
dwellings,  or  examine  into  their  mode  of  life,  and  none  come 
home  with  a  very  favorable  impression  of  Wales  upon  their 
minds.  The  language  of  the  natives  is  a  sealed  book  to  the 
Englishman,  and  as  there  evidently  exists  a  mutual  detestation  of 
each  other  between  the  present  representatives  of  Edward  the 
First,  and  the  descendants  of  the  Cambrian  bards,  there  is  but 
little  intercourse  between  the  two  classes,  and  no  sympathy  in 
common.  The  visitor  roams  the  land  for  pleasure  and  relaxation 
— the  native  entertains  him  for  his  money,  and  so  far  only  do 
they  render  each  other  what  may  be  called  a  mutual  benefit. 

I  set  out  from  Chester  to  Mold,  a  town  of  considerable  size 
in  Flintshire,  but  saw  so  little  to  interest  between  the  two  places 
as  scarcely  to  deserve  notice.  The  farms  differ  greatly  from  those 
of  England ;  the  hedges  were  poor  and  thriftless,  the  land  stony 
and  of  light  soil,  the  houses  small  and  mean ;  some  of  them 
being  but  little  better  than  the  thatched  cottages  of  the  Irish 
peasantry.  The  town  of  Mold  cannot  be  said  to  be  a  place  of 
22 


254  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHWAY; 

consequence,  and  beyond  its  old  church  there  arc  no  buildings  of 
note.  The  sacred  pile  is  situate  on  a  hill,  and  the  space  around  de- 
voted to  burial  purposes  is  large,  and  gives  ample  scope  for  viewing 
the  edifice,  which  is  one  possessing  several  peculiarities  not  often 
seen  in  village  churches.  The  tower  is  high  and  imposing,  and 
there  are  battlements  around  the  main  portion  of  the  building, 
and  a  curiously  ornamented  frieze  under  the  cornices  on  which  are 
sculptured  figures  of  nearly  every  species  of  animals,  from  the 
stately  lion  and  ponderous  elephant  to  the  agile  monkey  and 
slothful  bear.  The  streets  are  paved  oddly  enough,  the  usual 
order  of  things  being  reversed,  for  the  sidewalks  are  laid  with 
rough  rounded  pebbles,  while  the  carriage-ways  are  smooth  and 
easy  of  travel.  The  surrounding  country  is  hilly,  and  not  much 
adapted  for  farming  purposes.  The  turnpikes  between  Mold 
and  Denbigh  are  good;  but  as  they  wind  through  valleys  there  is 
not  much  to  be  seen  beyond  the  sides  of  the  hills,  and  the  white- 
washed cottages  of  the  peasantry,  and  not  many  of  the  latter. 
I  walked  nearly  twenty  miles  to  St.  Asaph,  but  saw  little  on  the 
entire  route  of  interest,  except  the  stupid  rustics  whom  I  met, 
and  they  were  almost  as  dull  and  ignorant  as  the  donkeys  they 
drove.  Nearly  along-side  of  Mold,  on  a  high  point  of  a  range 
of  hills,  stands  an  obelisk  of  considerable  altitude,  with  the  his- 
tory of  which  I  supposed  every  person  in  the  vicinity  was  fa- 
miliar, but  found  myself  greatly  mistaken,  when  I  made  inquiry 
of  those  I  met.  Not  one,  out  of  twelve  or  more  to  whom  I 
spoke,  could  tell  what  it  was,  and  I  began  to  think  that  it  would 
be  useless  to  make  any  further  exertions  to  learn,  when  an  old 
man,  who  was  breaking  stone  on  the  road-side,  told  me  all  he  knew 
about  it. 

lie  was  a  grayhaircd  veteran,  quite  sociable  and  friendly,  and 
appeared  to  take  pleasure  in  being  able  to  inform  mo  what  the 
pile  was  erected  for,  and  its  name.  "  It  was  built,"  said  he, 
*<whcn  George  the  Third  was  king,  to  commemorate  the  fiftieth 
year  of  that  sovereign's  reign,  and  is  a  landmark  to  mariners,  as 
well  as  an  object  of  curiosity  to  travellers,  and  is  called  the  Mocl 
Fanmia."  As  I  passed  on,  the  lofty  ruins  of  Denbigh  Castle 
became  viiiible^  and  their  bald  and  jaggeU  outlines  were  clearly 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  255 

defined  by  the  bright  rays  of  the  declining  sun.  The  hmdscape 
grew  more  lovely,  and  the  farms  began  to  look  well.  By  turning 
into  a  by-road,  my  course  to  St.  Asaph  was  much  shortened,  and 
made  easier  of  travel,  for  the  scenery  was  fine,  and  in  the  absence 
of  a  companion,  the  main  object  of  interest  to  the  pedestrian  is 
the  landscape,  and  the  more  lovely  it  is,  the  more  cheerful  is  the 
road.  When  within  a  few  miles  of  the  last-named  town,  I  en- 
countered several  huntsmen  with  a  pack  of  hounds,  in  all  about 
sixty.  The  men  .were  mounted  upon  swift-looking  steeds,  and 
each  one  wore  a  red  coat  and  buckskin  short-clothes,  and  carried 
a  horn  at  his  side.  They  were  going  to  a  rendezvous  in  the  in- 
terior of  the  country,  in  the  vicinity  of  which  fox-hunts  annually 
take  place  in  the  autumn.  Both  the  dogs  and  the  men  trotted 
along  with  an  easy,  careless  motion,  as  if  they  were  made  for  no 
other  purposes  than  self-indulgence  and  enjoyment. 

St.  Asaph  is  one  of  the  cleanest  of  the  "Welsh  towns,  and, 
although  small  and  secluded,  it  is  both  pretty  and  important  in 
some  respects,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  seat  of  a  bishopric,  and  con- 
tains a  cathedral  and  episcopal  palace.  The  Clwyd  and  Elwy, 
two  inconsiderable  streams,  flow  near  it,  and  in  the  vicinity  are 
coal-pits  and  furnaces;  but  the  town  fortunately  does  not  receive 
the  benefit  of  the  black  smoke  of  the  manufactories  and  mines. 
While  at  the  place,  I  inquired  of  a  young  female  the  name  of  the 
river  which  is  nearest  the  town,  and  as  we  were  both  standing  on 
a  bridge  which  spans  the  stream,  I  naturally  enough  supposed 
she  would  be  able  to  tell  me;  but  not  she;  her  knowledge  did  not 
extend  so  far,  and  after  looking  at  me  for  a  while,  apparently  sur- 
prised that  a  person  should  ask  such  a  question,  she  replied  that 
she  did  not  know  any  other  name  for  it  than  the  river j  that  being 
the  only  one  she  ever  heard.  Such  instances  of  ignorance  among 
the  people  are  frequent,  and  it  seldom  happens  that  persons  of 
even  mature  years  among  the  laboring  classes  are  able  to  impart 
the  slightest  information  to  strangers  respecting  the  country  around 
them,  and  the  very  places  in  which  they  were  born.  The  Welsh 
in  this  particular  resemble  their  English  neighbors,  and  do  not 
appear  to  consider  it  of  consequence  whether  they  inform  them- 


256  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  IIIGIIWAY; 

selves  respecting  local  affairs  or  not,  and  transactions  and  events 
at  a  distance  are  altogetber  unknown  to  them. 

The  cathedral  of  St.  Asaph  is  small  but  neat,  and  in  the  usual 
cruciform  shape  of  minsters  and  sacred  colleges.  The  east  win- 
dow is  elegantly  adorned  with  some  modern  stained  glass,  and  the 
choir  is  richly  decorated  and  profusely  ornamented,  while  the  aisles 
of  the  nave  contain  some  fine  monuments  and  excellent  statuary 
in  white  marble.  The  building  is  on  a  hill,  and  there  is  a  large 
open  space  around  it  which  adds  to  its  appearaoce,  and  exhibits 
its  proportions  to  the  best  advantage. 

Tired  of  a  twenty  miles'  walk,  I  made  my  way  to  an  inn,  and 
was  politely  ushered  into  a  pleasant  little  parlor  where  a  blue-eyed 
servant-girl  awaited  my  orders.  I  sat  down  by  the  fire  while  she 
prepared  the  table  for  my  repast,  and  it  was  a  welcome  treat  to 
meet  with  such  a  cheerful  and  vivacious  girl.  People  may  abuse 
the  domestic  females  of  English  hotels,  but  they  do  not  deserve 
the  many  ill  things  that  are  said  of  them,  and  it  is  from  them  alone 
that  the  weary  traveller  receives  the  kindest  treatment  when  he 
enters  an  inn.  Your  every  want  is  anticipated,  and  their  modesty 
and  gentle  behavior  make  them  angels  of  welcome  to  the  lonely 
and  toil-worn  wanderer.  The  little  sprightly  Welsh  lass  was  not 
an  exception  to  the  class  to  which  she  belongs,  and  her  unassumed 
kindness  and  assiduity  were  consoling  and  well-timed.  She  soon 
gpread  the  clean  white  cloth  and  prepared  the  cheerful  meal,  I 
paid  her  some  compliments,  but  she  warded  oflF  the  flattery  with 
adroitness,  and  kept  up  a  strain  of  entertaining  humor  that  made 
her  company  agreeable.  ''Evil  be  to  him  who  evil  thiukcth,"  is 
the  motto  of  the  Knight  of  the  Garter,  and  it  is  only  the  evil  in 
heart  who  will  entertain  opinions  derogatory  to  the  ministering 
angels  of  the  village  or  wayside  hostelrie.  IIow  pleasant,  how 
polite,  how  attentive  and  friendly  they  are! 

"Will  you  make  the  tea,  sir,"  said  my  little  maiden,  with  one 
of  the  sweetest  voices  in  the  world,  "  or  shall  1  T' 

"  Why  you,  by  all  means,  for  all  I  can  do  is  to  drink  it;"  and  she 
asked  again,  ''  Will  you  have  it  all  black,  or  shall  it  be  mixed?" 
"  Mixed,  if  you  please  j"  and  she  took  each  canister  alternately  ia 
her  taper  fingers,  and  poured  out  as  much  as  she  thought  would 


257 

be  sufficient,  at  the  same  time  asking  me  to  say  "whether  the  quan- 
tity was  too  great  or  too  little.  It  was  soon  arranged,  and  the  boil- 
ing water  poured  upon  it,  and  when  the  tea  was  drawn,  she  filled 
my  cup,  while  I  sat  watching  her  pretty  face,  and  in  the  contem- 
plation of  it  forgot  my  meal. 

She  pretended  not  to  notice  my  rudeness,  but  said,  in  a  half 
persuasive,  half  rebuking  tone,  ^'Are  you  unwell,  sir?  or  do  you 
think  the  tea  too  strong?" 

*'It's  not  the  tea,"  said  I,  ^Hhat's  too  strong,  nor  am  I  ill,  but, 
but—" 

"But  what,  sir  ?"  she  inquired,  with  a  look  of  perplexity,  hardly 
knowing  how  to  finish  the  sentence. 

"  I  was  thinking  that  the  tea  would  taste  better,  if  you  were 
to  take  that  chair  and  favor  me  with  your  company,"  said  I,  rising, 
and  waving  her  to  a  seat  at  the  side  of  the  table,  in  doing  which 
I  awkwardly  enough  upset  the  Chinese  beverage  over  the  cloth, 
and  cut  a  ridiculous  figure  in  the  bargain. 

'^  Never  mind,"  said  she,  with  the  most  provoking  coolness 
possible.  "I'll  put  another  one  on  the  table;  it  won't  take  me 
long;"  and  she  commenced  removing  the  articles  to  an  adjoining 
sideboard.  I  interposed,  and  laid  my  hand  softly  on  her  arm  to 
induce  her  to  desist,  and  assured  her  that  the  mishap  did  not  dis- 
turb me,  and  hoped  there  was  no  harm  done. 

"  0,  not  the  least,  if  you  are  not  annoyed  by  the  accident;"  but 
the  provoking  little  fairy  paid  no  attention  to  my  invitation,  and, 
after  reflection,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would  look  oddly 
enough  if  the  landlord  should  happen  to  come  in  and  interrupt 
our  social  meal. 

She  filled  my  cup  again,  and  being  satisfied  that  I  could 
make  myself  comfortable,  she  went  to  the  door,  and  as  she  was 
going  out  said,  "  If  you  want  anything  else,  sir,  please  ring  the 
bell,  and  I  will  immediately  wait  upon  you ;"  and  with  a  face  all 
smiles,  and  a  sly  look  at  the  stained  cloth,  she  vanished. 

"  Confound  thee,  pretty  maiden,"  mused  I,  as,  with  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  door  through  which  she  had  disappeared,  I  fell  into  a 
train  of  thought,  instead  of  eating  my  food,  "  you  have  destroyed 
my  appetite,  caused  me  to  upset  my  tea,  been  indifferent  to  my 

22* 


258  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

invitation  to  dine,  and  now  go  away  laughing  at  my  mishap ;  but 
never  mind,  you  are  a  pretty  girl,  and  that  fact  is  a  consolatioa 
even  if  you  were  not  so  agreeable  and  friendly." 

I  finished  the  meal  and  rang  the  bell,  at  the  sound  of  which 
she  tripped  lightly  into  the  room,  and  stood  looking  at  me  quietly, 
until  I  asked  her  to  remove  the  cloth  and  bring  my  bill.  She 
soon  performed  her  task,  and  then  I  put  a  shilling  in  her  hand, 
and  requested  her  to  secure  me  a  seat  on  the  stage  to  Rhyl,  along- 
side the  driver.  She  looked  at  me,  and  asked  whether  the  money 
was  to  pay  the  fare.  '^  0,  no,  that's  for  you;"  and,  as  I  still  had 
her  hand  in  mine,  I  felt  the  warm  blood  in  it  as  it  gushed  from 
her  heart,  and  knew  that  the  blush  that  sent  it  so  wildly  to  the 
extremities  was  one  of  modesty  and  sinless  innocence.  "  Go," 
said  I,  "  secure  the  seat,  while  I  prepare  for  the  journey."  The 
stage  was  ready ;  she  came  to  the  door,  and  as  I  mounted  to  my 
elevated  station,  she  nodded  good-by,  and  bade  me  the  sweetest 
possible  adieu ! 

The  day  was  fast  merging  into  night  as  the  coach  whirled  out  of 
the  old  town  of  St.  Asaph,  and  the  cool  breeze  of  an  autumnal 
evening  made  a  warm  overcoat  comfortable. 

Our  company  was  like  my  tea,  mixed,  and  some  of  them  con- 
versed in  the  Welsh  language,  while  the  uninitiated  quietly  listened 
to  the  strange  tongue.  Hedges  and  groves  of  trees  flew  past,  and 
as  the  miles  fled  by,  the  company  became  sociable,  and  such  as 
could  speak  English  kept  up  a  conversation  which  lasted  during 
the  journey.  We  passed  the  ancient  and  strongly  built  castle  of 
Rhuddlyn,  near  the  village  of  that  name,  on  the  east  bank  of  the 
Clwyd,  one  of  those  fortresses  which  Edward  tho  First  built  to 
keep  his  unwilling  Welsh  subjects  in  awe.  The  main  portion  is 
in  tolerable  preservation,  and  the  bold,  tall  towers  at  the  angles 
look  as  formidable  as  they  must  have  done  when  the  troops  of 
the  conqueror  of  Wales  found  shelter  and  protection  within  thera. 
We  entered  the  town  in  the  haze  of  evening,  and  wore  shown  the 
house  in  which  Edward  held  his  parliaments  during  his  residence 
in  tho  principality;  but  neither  the  village  nor  tho  particular 
building  alluded  to  impressed  us  fa\^rably  with  the  cleanliness  of 
^ho  plaoC;  for  any  quantity  of  dirt  was  visible,  and  none  of  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  259 

houses  appeared  fit  for  a  white  man  to  live  in.  "We  pursued  our 
course  to  Rhyl,  a  modern  town  on  the  sea-coast,  mainly  important 
as  a  resort  during  the  summer  for  sea-bathers  and  fashionable 
idlers.  I  rested  in  it  all  night,  and  proceeded  by  rail  in  the 
morning  to  Conway,  a  town  within  fifteen  miles  of  Bangor,  and 
famous  at  the  present  time  for  its  tubular  and  suspension-bridges, 
and  the  remains  of  its  castle  and  walls  erected  in  the  days  of 
Edward  the  First,  and  I  may  add  with  propriety  its  squalid  and 
filthy  appearance.  The  city  walls  are  in  ruins,  but  the  immense 
towers  which  rise  from  them,  and  the  gateways  are  in  tolerable 
preservation.  The  castle  stands  on  a  rock  washed  by  the  river, 
and  the  two  bridges  cross  the  stream  immediately  at  its  side. 
The  twenty- four  massive  towers  of  the  walls  remain  almost  entire, 
and  they,  with  those  of  the  strongly-built  castle,  give  the  town, 
when  seen  from  a  distance,  the  aspect  of  a  strongly  fortified  and 
picturesque  city;  but  a  nearer  acquaintance  with  the  place  dispels 
the  romantic,  and  the  visitor  is  glad  to  get  away  from  one  of  the 
dirtiest,  muddiest,  and  most  wretched-looking  collections  of  miser- 
able houses  in  Wales.  The  inhabitants  appear  to  be  engaged  in 
fishing  and  coasting,  and  their  aspect  is  one  of  wretchedness  and 
indifi"erence  to  personal  cleanliness.  The  adjacent  land  is  hilly, 
stony,  and  rather  unproductive ;  and  as  the  people  are  not  remark- 
able for  thrift  and  industry,  there  is  not  that  amount  of  labor 
bestowed  upon  the  cultivation  of  indifferent  soil  that  one  sees  in 
England. 

Bangor,  although  an  old  city,  is  indebted  for  its  increase  and 
present  importance  more  to  the  modern  than  the  ancient  day. 
Perched  in  between  the  high  eastern  bank  of  the  Mcnai  Straits, 
and  a  range  of  hills  which  run  seaward  from  the  Cambrian  Alps, 
it  rests  as  quietly  in  the  secluded  valley  as  if  it  were  out  of  the 
world  of  Great  Britain.  The  streets  are  narrow  and  crooked,  and 
the  side-walks  are  paved  with  rounded  pebbles,  which  make  it 
next  to  impossible  for  the  pedestrian  to  perambulate  its  avenues 
without  pain  to  his  feet,  particularly  if  he  is  blessed  with  those 
fashionable  modern  appendages — corns.  The  cathedral  is  a  large 
cruciform  building,  externally  much  decayed,  but,  like  all  Gothic 


200  THE  rOOTPATU  AND  HicmwAY; 

edifices  of  the  oklen  time,  a  structure  possessing  many  beauties, 
for  age  improves  as  well  as  decays  those  hallowed  shrines. 

Slate  abounds  in  the  vicinity  of  Bangor,  and  even  the  tomb- 
stones in  the  burial-ground  are  made  of  it.  In  looking  at  the 
inscriptions  in  the  graveyards,  I  noticed  some  peculiarities  not 
observed  elsewhere,  which  may,  with  propriety,  be  considered 
Welsh.  Nearly  every  other  tomb  was  inscribed  Jones,  and  as 
there  were  many  Johns  among  them,  the  surviving  relatives  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  place  the  occupation  of  the  defunct  on  his 
gravestone,  and  one  of  them  informs  the  reader  that  the  wife  of 
the  deceased  continues  the  business  at  the  old  stand.  Jones  is  not 
only  in  the  majority  in  burial-places,  but  throughout  the  country, 
and  at  least  one-third  of  the  inhabitants  bear  that  name,  the  other 
being  divided  between  Williams,  Davies,  Evans,  and  Griffith. 
The  Joneses  are  seldom  related,  and  on  the  stage-coach  from  Ilhyl 
to  St.  Asaph,  nearly  all  the  outside  Welsh  passengers  bore  that 
name,  and  yet  none  of  them  had  ever  seen  each  other  before;  nor 
was  that  the  only  occasion  on  which  the  greater  part  of  those 
with  whom  I  was  thrown  into  contact,  while  in  the  country,  were 
of  the  name,  and  I  am  safe  in  saying  that  Jones  is  so  common  in 
Wales  that  it  is  no  name  at  all — although  borne  by  some  very 
deserving  people. 

The  shops  of  Bangor  are  showy,  and  many  of  them  contain  all 
the  luxuries  to  be  obtained  in  simihir  London  establishments,  and 
as  the  town  is  a  fashionable  summer  resort  for  those  who  are  fond 
of  sport  and  fine  scenery,  the  tradesman  seldom  fails  to  dispose  of 
his  stock. 

Penrhyn  Castle,  one  of  the  noblest  of  its  kind  in  the  princi- 
pality, is  near  the  town,  and  the  famous  Menai  Suspension  and 
Britannia  Tubular  Bridges  are  distant  only  a  few  miles.  On  a 
pleasant  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  a  few  hours  high,  I  took  a 
walk  to  these  celebrated  works  and  along  the  shores  of  the  world- 
renowned  straits,  l^ersons  at  a  distance,  who  arc  not  acquainted 
with  the  national  penchant  of  the  English  for  exaggeration,  both 
as  writers  and  artists,  are  led  to  believe,  from  the  drawings  and 
engravings  common  of  the  suspension-bridge,  that  the  renowned 
straits  are  a  good-sized  arm  of  the  sea,  and  deep  enough  to  allow 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  261 

heavy  vessels  to  pass  through  the  channel  with  ease.  The  artist, 
to  give  eifect  to  his  sketch  and  importance  to  the  place,  intro- 
duces vessels  into  the  picture,  which  are  represented  as  large 
ships  sailing  under  the  bridges;  when  the  truth  is  that  the  water 
is  not  more  than  nine  hundred  feet  wide  at  the  point  where  the 
suspension-bridge  spans  it,  and  so  shallow  as  to  be  extremely 
difficult  of  navigation  by  vessels  of  from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to 
four  hundred  tons,  even  at  favorable  tides,  and  dangerous  when 
the  waters  are  out.  Shoals  and  sandbars  are  numerous,  and  bare 
at  low  water,  and  the  few  steamships  which  navigate  the  straits 
seldom  go  more  than  a  few  miles  south  of  the  tubular  bridge, 
and  not  often  beyond  Caernarvon,  a  town  only  seven  miles  distant 
by  water.  The  bridge  is  unquestionably  a  triumph  of  engineer- 
ing skill,  and  the  tubular  span  is  justly  regarded  the  wonder  of 
the  nineteenth  century.  The  suspension  structure  is  a  noble 
erection,  but  not  so  immense  as  Americans  generally  suppose. 
The  entire  length  of  the  chains,  and  they  extend  several  hundred 
feet  beyond  the  river  banks  on  either  side,  is  1714  feet,  which,  it 
will  be  observed,  is  less  than  one-third  of  a  mile.  The  height  of 
the  road-way  from  the  high  water  line  is  100  feet,  which  is  an 
altitude  sufficiently  great  to  allow,  without  hindrance,  the  passage 
under  of  the  largest  class  of  vessels  that  navigate  the  straits.  I 
do  not  wish  to  detract  from  the  structure  any  merit  or  importance 
it  may  possess ;  but  it  is  no  more  than  right  that  the  spirit  of 
exaggeration,  so  prevalent  in  England  respecting  great  national 
works,  should  be  rebuked,  and  my  humble  efforts  shall  be  exerted 
to  that  end,  whether  successfully  or  not.  The  banks  of  the  straits 
are  bold  and  high,  and  as  the  water  is  wider  than  any  of  the 
rivers  of  Britain,  excepting  only  those  of  the  Thames  and  Severn 
in  certain  places,  there  is  some  excuse  for  a  cockney  going  into 
ecstasies  on  viewing  the  straits  for  the  first  time,  but  surely  none 
for  the  artist  or  author  who  purposely  magnifies  the  truth  when 
attempting,  in  his  own  particular  way,  to  describe  the  place.  The 
bridge  is  kept  in  admirable  condition,  and  men  are  almost  con- 
stantly engaged  in  repairing  and  painting  it.  The  iron  work  is 
kept  from  rusting,  the  road-way  clean,  and  the  greatest  care  taken 
with  the  structure.     The  payment  of  a  single  penny  entitles  the 


2G2  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

payer  to  the  privilege  of  crossing  as  often  as  be  feels  inclined 
during  the  day,  and  forty  times  the  amount  would  be  judiciously 
expended  by  the  traveller,  were  the  charge  that  much,  for  the 
gratification  he  derives  from  walking  over  and  examining  the 
structure,  or  in  viewing  from  it  the  splendid  scenery  on  both 
sides  of  the  strait,  and  the  bold,  cloud-capped  hills  of  Caernarvon- 
shire. I  crossed  the  stream,  and  walked  down  to  the  tubular 
bridge  on  the  Anglesea  side  along  the  Holyhead  turnpike,  which 
runs  parallel  to  the  straits,  and  affords  numerous  fine  views  of  the 
mountains  on  the  opposite  side.  The  black  and  frowning  high- 
lands contrasted  strongly  with  the  white  mists  and  clouds  which 
veiled  their  summits,  and  the  distant  peak  of  the  far-famed  Snow- 
den  rose  like  a  stately  giant  in  the  background,  as  the  rays  of  the 
evening  sun  revealed  its  lofty  front.  The  immense  tube  of  the 
Britannia  Bridge  passed  over  the  stream  to  the  south  of  me  like 
the  body  of  a  huge  serpent,  while  northward  the  aerial  form  of 
the  delicate  suspension  structure  looked  like  a  fairy  fabric,  and  the 
carriages  and  pedestrians  crossing  it  appeared  as  though  suspended 
upon  gossamer  woofs,  and  travelling  upon  the  "  baseless  fabric  of 
a  vision,"  betwixt  earth  and  heaven. 

The  bridge  can  only  be  accurately  described  by  an  experienced 
engineer,  who  thoroughly  understands  the  principles  upon  which 
the  enormous  structure  is  constructed  and  sustained.  The  tubes 
at  the  bottom  and  top  are  the  main  support  of  the  stupendous 
mass,  and  the  simplicity  of  construction  is  wonderful.  The  tall 
towers,  which  rise  from  the  water  between  the  abutments  on  either 
shore,  are  considerably  higher  than  the  abutments  themselves, 
being  full  thirty  fcot  above  the  body  of  the  bridge.  The  main, 
or  Britannia  tower,  in  the  centre  of  the  structure,  is  199  feet  8 
inches  over  the  high-water  mark ;  and  the  total  height,  from  tho 
foundation,  is  221  feet  8  inches.  The  straits  are  about  eleven 
hundred  feet  wide  at  the  place  where  tho  tube  crosses,  and  con- 
siderably wider  than  at  the  suspension-bridge,  which  is  nearly  a 
mile  farther  north.  The  abutments,  at  each  end,  arc  terminated 
by  four  colossal  lions,  which  are  placed  one  on  each  pedestal, 
erected  for  tho  purpose,  at  the  sides  of  either  extremity  of  tho 
bridge,  and  they  arc  attractive  features  of  the  structure,  and  re- 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  263 

markably  well  executed  in  the  Egyptian  style  of  sculpture.  They 
are  colossal,  in  every  sense  of  the  term,  and,  although  couchantj 
measure  25  feet  in  length  by  12  feet  some  inches  in  height,  and 
the  breadth  of  each  paw  is  2  feet  4  inches — dimensions  sufficiently 
great  to  convey  some  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  each.  I  was  al- 
lowed to  walk  through  the  tube,  a  privilege  granted  strangers  by 
the  company,  who  provide  a  guide  expressly  to  conduct  visitors 
through,  and  describe  the  peculiarities  of  the  bridge.  The  tubes 
are  composed  entirely  of  iron  plates  securely  fastened  with  bolts, 
and  angular  pieces  of  the  same  material  above  and  below.  The 
great  weight  is  mainly  sustained  by  the  most  important  part  of 
the  structure,  and  exhibit  extraordinary  thought  in  the  design,  and 
care  in  the  workmanship,  every  portion  of  which  is  executed  in 
the  best  possible  manner.  The  trains  pass  through  it  at  a  much 
greater  speed  than  one  not  acquainted  with  it  would  consider  safe, 
but  never  exceed  the  rate  of  a  given  number  of  miles  per  hour, 
each  engineer  being  under  positive  instructions  to  shut  off  the 
steam  when  approaching  the  tubes  from  either  end.  It  is  re- 
markable how  little  noise  is  made  by  the  crossing  trains,  there 
being  not  more  than  would  arise  from  a  heavy  carriage  being 
drawn,  at  a  moderate  speed,  through  one  of  the  covered  viaducts 
so  common  in  the  United  States.  Two  guards  are  constantly  kept 
on  duty,  night  and  day,  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  people  pass- 
ing without  a  conductor,  and  guarding  against  accidents  of  every 
description.  Men  are  employed  to  keep  the  structure  in  order 
and  the  tubes  clean,  and  every  precaution  is  taken  to  prevent 
damage  to  the  bridge  or  injury  to  the  passengers  and  trains. 

The  first  view  of  the  enormous  edifice  does  not  create  a  feeling 
of  surprise  in  the  mind  of  the  beholder;  but  a  close  examination 
of  its  peculiarities,  and  a  familiarity  with  its  proportions,  extort 
admiration,  and  cause  the  observer  to  stand  in  wonder  before  it. 
It  is  somewhat  like  Niagara  Falls  at  first  sight — creates  a  feeling 
akin  to  disappointment,  which  soon,  however,  gives  way  to  the 
opposites  of  wonder  and  astonishment.  The  country  around  is 
rocky  and  hilly,  and  presents  some  grand  natural  scenery,  as  well 
as  artificial  objects.  On  a  high  point,  near  the  western  end  of  the 
tube,  stands  a  column,  erected  by  the  citizens  of  the  counties  on 


264  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

either  side  of  the  straits  to  commemorate  the  services  of  the  ]Mar- 
quis  of  Anglesea,  in  the  campaigns  of  the  peninsula  and  the  hun- 
dred days'  reign.  It  is  conspicuous  in  the  landscape,  and  rears 
its  bold  Doric  front  in  solitary  majesty  to  the  skies;  but  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  man  it  was  erected  to  honor  possesses,  to 
this  day,  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  his  countrymen  as  entirely 
as  he  did  when  it  was  built,  for  much  is  said  against  him  by  the 
inhabitants  in  consequence  of  his  being  a  non-resident  of  the  dis- 
trict, and  squandering  his  income  in  the  fashionable  follies  of  Lon- 
don, instead  of  spending  some  of  it  among  his  tenantry,  from 
whom  it  is  chiefly  derived. 

On  my  return  to  Bangor,  T  met  with  a  gentleman  whose  frank- 
ness and  sociability  struck  me  as  not  characteristic  of  an  Englir«h- 
man;  and,  as  he  spoke  the  language  of  the  country  in  its  purity, 
both  as  regards  pronunciation  and  grammatical  arrangement,  I 
was  at  a  loss  to  satisfy  myself  where  he  was  from.  He  was  evi- 
dently not  Welsh,  and,  as  he  told  me  that  he  was  a  stranger  in 
the  land,  I  was  in  a  quandary,  for  some  time,  to  know  where  to 
place  him.  We  walked  along  for  one  or  two  miles  in  agreeable 
conversation,  and,  although  I  paid  particular  attention  to  his  ac- 
cent, there  was  no  brogue  on  his  tongue.  He  loas  not  English, 
nor  Welsh;  and  I  thought  he  exhibited  more  of  the  refined  and 
educated  Scotchman  than  the  enlightened  and  polished  Irishman, 
one  or  the  other  of  which  I  felt  confident  he  was,  after  an  hour's 
acquaintance.  We  arrived  at  the  railway  station,  when  I  learned 
that  he  was  going  on  to  Dublin,  and  that  he  was  a  native  and 
resident  of  Wicklow,  and  would  be  extremely  happy  to  have  me 
visit  him,  if  I  should  ever  come  to  Ireland.  I  exchanged  ad- 
dresses with  him,  and  parted,  highly  pleased  with  his  gentlemanly 
behavior  and  social  qualities,  and  could  not  help  contrasting,  in  my 
mind,  the  friendly  disposition  exhibited  by  him  with  the  reserve  of 
the  English,  generally,  who  seldom  give  a  stranger  a  kind  look, 
and  appear  to  regard  all  foreigners  with  distrust,  unless  they  come 
with  a  patent  of  nobility,  or  arc  introduced  with  the  formalities 
of  modern  society. 

The  Straits  of  the  Mcnai  arc  spoken  of  by  different  authors, 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  265 

under  various  names;  and  it  is  to  them  that  Gray  alludes,  in  hia 
poem  of  the  '^Bard/^  when  he  says, 

"  On  dreary  Arvon's  shore  they  lie, 
Smeared  with  gore  and  ghastly  pale  ;" 

and  the  British  bards  make  frequent  allusion  to  them  in  their 
compositions  under  other  names.  It  was  near  the  site  of  the  pre- 
sent Britannia  Bridge  that  a  Boman  army  crossed  the  straits  under 
Suetonius  Paulinius,  about  the  sixtieth  year  of  the  Christian  era, 
when  he  attacked,  and  nearly  destroyed  the  British  Druids  in 
Anglesea.  The  inhabitants  of  the  country  are  almost  as  ancient 
in  appearance  as  their  native  hills,  and  their  absurd  adherence  to 
the  customs  and  language  of  their  ancestors  creates  a  smile  on  the 
countenance  of  the  stranger,  if  nothing  more.  Here  is  a  race  of 
people  occupying  a  sterile,  barren,  mountainous  tract  of  country 
within  two  hundred  miles  of  London,  the  capital  of  the  civilized 
world,  and  they  appear  to  be  blindly  determined  to  oppose  progress, 
and  stupidly  continue  in  the  ways  of  their  forefathers.  Their 
language  is  as  odd  as  their  costume,  and  they  have  such  a  hearty 
national  hatred  of  their  Saxon  neighbors  that  they  will  not  even 
speak  English,  and  live  as  completely  isolated  from  the  inhabitants 
of  the  other  sections  of  the  island  as  if  they  were  dwellers  in  the 
remote  recesses  of  the  valleys  of  Thibet.  In  my  rambles,  I  met 
with  many  who  could  not  speak  a  single  word  of  English,  and 
those  who  did  were  generally  illiterate  and  almost  ill-mannered. 
The  peasant  women  wear  "  shocking  bad  hats"  of  the  steeple  or 
sugar-loaf  pattern,  and  with  half  a  dozen  ruffles  at  each  side  of  the 
face,  they  look  the  most  perfect  frights  in  the  world  in  human 
shape.  The  men  do  not  appear  to  have  a  high  regard  for  female 
character,  and  many  of  the  women  are  no  better  than  domestic 
slaves,  and  it  is  a  frequent  occurrence  to  see  old  and  young  fe- 
males wearing  coarse,  heavy  shoes,  the  soles  of  which  are  filled 
with  large  nails,  and  dressed  otherwise  in  the  costume  of  the 
country,  wheeling  barrows  along  the  highway,  and  even  driving 
sheep  and  cattle.  The  figure  the  women  cut  when  mounted  on  a 
shuffling  nag,  and  dressed  in  the  Welsh  style,  with  a  broad-brimmed 
black  fur  or  silk  hat  on  the  top  of  the  head,  is  ridiculous  in  the 
23 


2GG  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

extreme,  and  no  stranger  comes  out  of  the  country  after  seeing 
such  pictures  with  a  partiality  for  the  native  costume.  Not  only 
are  the  language  and  style  of  dress  considered  sacred  and  preserved 
as  national  jewels,  but  they  celebrate  the  "Eisteddfod"  (pro- 
nounced Estethvod)  or  "Sittings  of  the  Bards,"  every  three 
years,  at  some  particular  place  in  the  principality,  and  award  pre- 
miums to  those  who  produce,  at  such  triennial  exhibitions,  the  best 
articles  of  domestic  comfort  and  personal  wear,  such  as  cloths, 
stockings,  hats,  etc,  manufactured  entirely  from  Welsh  materials; 
and  confer  honors  and  medals  upon  those  poets  who  produce  the  two 
best  poems  in  the  Welsh  language  upon  purely  national  subjects. 
Their  dwellings  are  indifferent,  and  not  much  calculated  for  com- 
fort ;  their  habits  neither  pleasant  nor  agreeable ;  and,  as  they 
have  no  partiality  for  things  English,  they  entertain  a  holy  hatred 
for  the  Established  or  Episcopal  Church,  and  seldom  go  within  its 
walls.  Some  of  them  nurture  the  idea  that  Wales  will,  at  some 
future  day,  regain  her  ancient  independence,  and  shut  their  eyes 
to  every  species  of  rational  advancement,  being  content  to  live  as 
their  fathers  lived,  and  die  in  the  faith  and  opinions  of  their  an- 
cestors. Such  are  some  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Welsh  people 
at  the  present  day — a  people  inhabiting  a  land,  the  extent  of  which 
is  not  so  great  as  many  of  the  counties  in  the  American  States, 
and  about  as  productive  as  the  iron  sides  of  the  Alleghanies  of 
Western  Virginia.  The  railways  in  the  north  and  south  have 
contributed  somewhat  towards  bringing  the  people  more  in  contact 
with  the  world  from  which  they  are  now  estranged ;  but  as  they 
traverse  only  the  remote  boundaries  of  the  principality,  and  do 
not  penetrate  to  the  interior,  there  is  but  little  prospect  at  present 
of  the  Welsh  following  in  the  progressive  spirit  of  the  age,  and 
every  reason  to  believe  that  they  will  continue  for  a  century  to 
come,  as  they  now  are,  full  a  hundred  years  behind  the  times.  I 
speak  of  the  people  at  large,  the  peasantry  and  masses;  and"  as 
they  are  the  nation,  and  blindly  adhere  to  old  customs  and  usages, 
there  is  but  little  hope  for  their  present  regeneration.  That  some 
individuals  among  them  possess  well  cultivated  minds  and  enter- 
tain liberal  sentiments,  cannot  be  denied,  but  they  are  few.  If 
mankind  are  to  be  taught  advancement  by  the  Welsh  people,  they 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  267 

will  have  to  wait  a  long  while,  and  tyranny  will  have  grown  cun- 
ning, and  made  rapid  advances  at  crushing  the  spirit  of  freedom, 
with  his  iron  and  villanous  power,  ere  they  will  enter  the  lists  in 
favor  of  human  rights  and  human  progress. 

I  visited  other  sections  of  the  northern  part  of  the  principality, 
besides  those  mentioned,  and  walked  from  Bangor  to  Caernarvon 
along  the  shores  of  the  "  dreary  Arvon,"  for  the  purpose  of  view- 
ing the  scenery  of  the  famous  Straits  and  rugged  aspect  of  the 
adjacent  country.  Tameness  is  certainly  no  feature  of  the  land- 
scape, and  the  clouds,  which  float  over  the  hills  and  envelop  the 
mountain  tops,  are  not  sparing  to  the  land  of  their  crystal  con- 
tents, as  I  had  abundant  proof  during  my  walk.  Caernarvon  is  a 
mean-looking  place  on  the  eastern  shores  of  the  Straits  at  a  point 
where  they  expand  to  the  distance  of  two  miles,  and  is  re- 
nowned for  its  castle,  built  by  Edward  the  First ;  the  walls  and 
towers  of  which  are  in  good  preservation,  considering  the  many 
years  they  have  been  standing.  The  room  in  which  Edward  the 
Second  was  born  is  shown  to  visitors,  and  the  guide,  like  most 
exhibiters  of  old  castles,  points  out  numerous  other  objects  about 
the  place  unknown  to  history,  and  only  known  to  himself.  From 
Caernarvon  I  originally  intended  to  proceed  inland  to  Llanberis, 
and  thence  on  to  Llangollen ;  but  the  weather  was  wet,  expenses 
heavy,  and  the  country  losing  its  robes  of  green.  The  driver  of 
a  "  Fly,"  a  species  of  jaunting  car,  had  the  excessive  modesty  to 
ask  me  fourteen  shillings,  or  nearly  three  dollars  and  fifty  cents,  to 
take  me  eight  miles,  and  when  I  declined  his  generous  offer,  and 
told  him  I  would  sooner  walk  the  distance  than  pay  so  exorbitant 
a  sum,  he  politely  hinted  that  I  would  run  a  risk  of  robbery,  if  I 
attempted  it.  I  told  him  I  had  my  doubts  about  that,  but  none 
as  to  his  robbing  me,  if  I  should  be  fool  enough  to  pay  him 
the  sum  he  demanded  for  the  service  required.  Seeing  no  chance 
of  getting  on  immediately  with  comfort,  I  availed  myself  of  a 
conveyance  back  to  Bangor,  and  returned  from  thence  to  the 
western  part  of  England,  very  well  satisfied  with  the  north  of 
Wales. 


2G8  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIOnWAY  J 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  WEDDING-PARTY — SHREWSBURY — MARKET-DAY — BATTLE- 
FIELD CHURCH. 

A  CONSTANT  change  of  residence  is  sure  to  bring  with  it  a  suc- 
cession of  scenery  and  incidents,  and  whether  walking,  or  travel- 
ling in  more  easy  and  rapid  way,  the  tourist  always  finds  something 
to  attract  his  attention,  and  afford  him  instruction  or  amusement. 
On  my  route  to  Shrewsbury  by  rail,  I  passed  through  a  romantic 
and  beautiful  part  of  country,  and  had  a  distant  glimpse  of  the 
far-famed  Vale  of  Llangollen,  and  the  interesting  and  well-culti- 
vated lands  around  llaubon,  as,  also,  a  good  view  of  the  town  of 
Wrexham  and  its  noble  old  church,  one  of  the  largest  and  most  ela- 
borately finished  of  the  many  Gothic  shrines  of  England.  When 
we  arrived  at  thd.  station,  it  was  decorated  with  wreaths  of  flowers, 
chaplets  of  evergreens,  and  waving  flags;  while  along  the  road 
and  on  the  platforms  were  groups  of  village  maidens  and  rustic 
swains,  arrayed  in  their  best,  some  of  the  men  looking  as  prim  as 
pikestaves,  and  taking  delight  in  flourishing  immense  nosegays  in 
the  button-hole  of  the  left  breast  of  the  coat.  The  girls  looked 
rosy  and  cheerful,  and  each  wore  a  smile  of  bashful  modesty  on 
her  countenance  as  if  expecting  an  agreeable  event  soon  to  trans- 
pire, of  which  they  chatted  and  jested  as  young  females  will  when 
one  more  favored  than  themselves  is  about  to  be  led  to  the  altar 
of  Hymen.  The  bells  of  the  church  rang  wildly  and  cheerily 
out,  and  kept  up  a  glorious  sound  of  joy  with  their  iron  tongues, 
which  sounded  to  my  ear  like  the  harmonious  commingling  of  the 
voices  of  a  host  of  happy  girls,  whose  hearts  arc  all  gladness,  and 
whose  souls  are  all  peace. 

**  What  now  ?"  was  the  inquiry  of  more  than  one  of  my  fellow- 
passengers.     '*  What  is  all  this  about?" 

*'Do  you  not  know?"  interrogated  a  lady  at  my  side. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  269 

"  Not  I,  indeed." 

"  Then  you  are  unusually  stupid,  if  you  cannot  see  that  this  ia 
a  wedding-party  waiting  to  escort  the  happy  couple  to  the  church." 

I  acknowledged  my  want  of  discernment,  and  received  a  look 
of  scorn  from  the  fair  one,  who  appeared  to  consider  me  a  hope- 
less bachelor,  and  singularly  deficient  in  experience  respecting 
weddings;  and  when  told  that  this  was  the  only  one  of  the  kind 
I  had  ever  noticed,  she  thought  it  quite  time  for  me  to  learn  some- 
thing of  the  ceremony,  and  advised  me  to  alight  and  witness  the 
one  about  to  take  place. 

"Your  education  must  have  been  sadly  neglected,"  said  she; 
"  or,  what  I  suspect  to  be  nearer  the  truth,  you  are  no  great  ad- 
mirer of  the  ladies." 

I  told  her  she  did  me  injustice,  and  assured  her  that  I  was  half 
inclined  to  fall  in  love  with  herself,  but  was  doubtful  how  my  suit 
would  be  received. 

"  0,  sir,  you  need  not  have  any  misgivings  as  to  that,  as  I  am 
married  already ;  and  if  I  were  not,  it  would  make  no  difference, 
for  you  never  would  be  my  choice." 

I  looked  from  the  window  at  the  rustic  maidens  until  the  train 
started,  and  not  inside  again  until  the  carriage  arrived  at  Shrews- 
bury. 

The  famous  county  town  of  Salopshire  (or,  as  it  is  commonly 
called,  Shropshire)  is  one  of  the  few  places  rarely  visited  by 
strangers,  because  of  its  remoteness  from  the  regular  line  of  tra- 
vel, and  not  being  connected  with  any  of  the  more  southern  towns 
by  rail.  The  Severn  flows  around  three  parts  of  the  town,  and  the 
city  may  be  said  to  occupy  a  plot  of  ground  in  shape  like  the  centre 
of  the  Roman  capital  letter  C,  the  river  nearly  encircling  it.  It  is 
on  two  hills,  and  the  streets  are  generally  narrow  and  steep,  with 
side-walks  of  pebbles  like  those  of  the  Welsh  towns.  It  contains 
but  few  buildings  worthy  of  note,  the  churches  being  both  old  and 
ungainly,  and  the  castle  much  shattered.  Many  of  the  dwell- 
ings are  built  with  the  gable  to  the  street,  and  as  most  of  them 
have  bay  windows,  there  is  an  air  of  antiquity  about  the  town 
quite  pleasing. 

Two  fine  bridges  span  the  Severn,  one  leading  toward  "Wales, 

23* 


270  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

the  other  into  England,  for  Shrewsbury  is  a  kind  of  neutral  town 
between  the  two  countries.  The  river  is  rapid  and  clear,  and  the 
place  much  cleaner  than  manufacturing  towns.  I  noticed  there 
what  frequently  attracted  ray  observation  in  English  villages — a 
fine  promenade  for  the  recreation  of  the  inhabitants.  It  extends 
along  the  Severn  for  more  than  a  mile,  and  is  planted  on  both 
sides,  for  a  considerable  distance,  with  rows  of  tall  lime-trees, 
whose  branches  unite  at  the  top  and  form  a  continuous  arcade* 
thus  affording  a  shaded  walk  of  great  beauty  along  the  shore  of 
one  of  the  cleanest  and  swiftest  of  .the  English  rivers. 

It  was  market-day  when  I  entered  the  ancient  place,  and 
the  streets  were  thronged  with  country  people,  who  ranged 
themselves  along  certain  thoroughfares,  and  exposed  their  goods 
on  the  side-walks,  or  in  the  streets,  a  short  distance  from 
the  curb,  while  the  purchasers  literally  jammed  up  the  remain- 
ing portion  of  the  street.  Ballad-singers  were  doling  out  the 
misfortunes  of  forlorn  lovers,  and  here  and  there  were  to  be 
seen  men  with  oily  tongues  praising,  in  extravagant  language, 
the  merits  of  the  articles  they  had  for  sale.  The  rustics  were 
dressed  in  coarse  clothing,  and  the  men  wore  the  smock-frock  and 
shoes  similar  to  those  worn  by  the  farm-laborers  in  Yorkshire  and 
other  counties  of  the  realm.  The  women  were  in  character,  both 
as  regards  dress  and  personal  appearance,  and  their  pattens 
clanked  on  the  pavement  as  noisily  as  the  heavy  shoes  of  the 
sterner  sex.  Piles  of  produce  were  ranged  for  sale,  and  here  sat 
an  old  woman  with  butter  and  eggs;  along-side  her  was  a  quantity 
of  apples;  a  little  further  on,  potatoes,  turnips,  and  cabbages; 
while  opposite  arose  a  hill  of  yellow  cheese.  Some  had  cloth  to 
dispose  of;  others,  homemade  stockings  and  mits;  and  thus  along 
the  entire  space  was  exposed,  in  baskets  and  tubs,  on  tables  and 
stands,  the  produce  of  the  farm  and  workshop.  "Wagons  were 
not  permitted  to  pass  through  the  crowd;  but  lazy  rascals  occa- 
sionally  rode  in  on  a  cart  drawn  by  a  half-starved  donkey,  or  poor, 
spiritless  dog,  those  animals  being  used  as  beasts  of  burthen  by 
the  poor. 

Shrewsbury  is  famous  in  English  history  for  the  many  fighta 
which  have  taken  place  near  it,  and  remarkable,  in  a  literary 
point,  for  being  the  town  in  which  the  witty  but  immoral  George 


271 

Farquliar  wrote  his  comedy,  the  "  Recruiting  Officer,"  while  serving 
in  that  capacity  in  it.  The  room  in  the  Eaven  Inn,  where  he 
composed  it,  is  still  shown  to  the  curious.  I  observed  that  the 
trade  of  the  recruiting  officer  was  still  important  in  Shrewsbury, 
and  that  bills  were  posted  up  at  the  corners,  calling  upon  the 
"  heroes  of  Shropshire"  to  join  the  army  of  her  Majesty,  and  win 
for  themselves  an  imperishable  name  by  cutting  the  throats  of 
their  country's  enemies  for  the  enormous  sum  of  one  shilling  per 
day. 

It  was  within  four  miles  of  the  town  that  Hotspur  lost  his  life, 
in  his  ill-starred  rebellion  against  Henry  the  Fourth,  more  than 
four  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  The  readers  of  Shakspeare  will 
recollect  the  poet's  account  of  the  action,  as  given  in  the  second  part 
of  the  tragedy  bearing  that  monarch's  name.  The  king  erected 
a  church  upon  the  battle-field,  to  commemorate  the  victory  of  his 
arms,  and  as  the  walls  of  the  edifice  are  standing  to  this  day,  I 
felt  considerable  curiosity  to  visit  them,  and  tread  a  field  so  famous 
as  that  of  Shrewsbury.  The  sun  was  fast  declining,  the  evening 
rather  cool,  and  the  sky  cloudy;  but  these  did  not  deter  me  from 
making  a  pilgrimage  to  the  celebrated  spot.  At  a  mile  or  more 
from  the  town,  a  toll-gate  keeper  directed  me  to  the  tower  of  the 
distant  church,  and  after  a  farther  walk  of  two  miles  along  a 
smooth  and  pleasant  road  lined  with  trees,  I  arrived  at  a  footpath, 
into  which  I  turned,  and,  crossing  several  fields,  came  up  to  the 
partially  roofless  shrine,  for  a  portion  of  the  edifice  is  under 
cover,  and  used  to  this  day  as  a  place  of  religious  worship.  It  is 
a  small  Gothic  building,  situate  on  a  level  plain  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  turnpike,  in  a  lonely  place,  and  some  willow 
and  yew-trees  grow  in  the  graveyard,  and  wave  their  long  tresses 
above  the  tombs  of  the  dead.  Ivy  clambers  up  the  walls  of  the 
beautiful  tower,  and  solitude  brooded  over  the  ruin  which  marks 
the  spot  whereon  Hotspur  fell.  Evening's  shadows  gathered  fast 
around  me,  and  the  pale  moon  threw  her  mellow  light  over  the 
plain  occasionally,  as  the  flying  clouds  passed  from  her  face,  and 
I  stood  alone,  at  the  twilight  hour,  on  the  ground  where  the 
bravest  Percy  yielded  up  his  life,  a  rebel !  It  was  the  hour  of 
gloaming,  and  the  faint  light  glimmered  through  the  chinks  in 


272  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGUWAYj 

the  ruin,  summoning  up  in  my  mind  the  days  of  old,  and  the 
stern  warriors  who,  in  coats  of  mail,  fought  with  battle-axe  and 
falchion  on  that  field.  But  it  was  no  place  for  dreams,  and  shak- 
ing ofif  the  poetic  mist  that  was  hovering  over  me,  I  slowly  returned 
to  my  lodgings,  satisfied  with  having  visited  the  most  remarkable 
spot  in  the  vicinity  of  Shrewsbury. 

The  capital  of  Shropshire  makes  a  fine  appearance  at  a  dis- 
tance. I  saw  it  one  evening,  under  a  fine  sunset,  from  a  point 
two  miles  off.  It  was  grand  then,  perched  upon  hills,  with  a 
glorious  flood  of  sunlight  falling  in  golden  arrows  upon  its  walls 
and  tapering  spires;  and  the  music  of  its  church  bells  came 
sweetly  to  my  ear  on  the  roral  air  over  the  verdant  meadows 
between  it  and  me. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

A  WALK  —  HARE-SHOOTING — TRAVELLING  COMPANIONS — KID- 
DERMINSTER— RIDE  TO  WORCESTER — THE  TOWN  AND  ITS 
CATHEDRAL. 

Some  of  the  English  railway  companies  carry  passengers  rea- 
sonably enough  sometimes,  but  not  so  much  to  accommodate  the 
public  as  to  gratify  a  spirit  of  rivalry.  When  1  went  to  the  sta- 
tion at  Shrewsbury,  and  asked  for  a  second-class  ticket  to  Welling- 
ton, a  distance  of  eleven  miles,  I  was  surprised  that  the  charge 
was  only  three  pence,  and  expressed  a  doubt  to  the  clerk  as  to  the 
correctness  of  the  demand,  having  frequently  before  paid  two  shil- 
lings for  being  taken  a  similar  distance.  lie  shook  his  head  dole- 
fully, and  told  me  it  was  the  established  fare,  but  stated  that  it 
was  ruinous  to  the  company,  and  must  soon  be  discontinued. 
Opposition  was  the  cause  of  the  charge  being  so  small,  and  cither 
one  or  the  other  of  the  competitors  would  soon  be  compelled  to 
yield  in  consequence  of  the  losses  each  sustained  daily  by  continu- 
ing to  carry  persons  at  such  low  rates.     The  train  soon  conveyed 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  273 

me  to  my  destination,  and  finding  that  there  was  no  stage  from 
there  to  Kidderminster,  as  I  had  been  led  to  believe,  I  walked 
through  the  dirty,  mean-looking  town,  and,  after  securing  my 
knapsack,  continued  my  journey  on  foot.  The  country  partakes 
of  the  same  character  as  that  around  Dudley  and  Wolverhampton  j 
in  fact,  it  is  only  another  section  of  the  same  iron  and  coal  district. 
I  passed  numerous  collieries  on  my  route,  where  the  creak  of  the 
windlass  and  the  puff  of  the  steam-engine  were  constant.  Thick 
black  smoke  and  lurid  flames  belched  from  the  furnaces,  and  as  I 
pursued  my  journey  the  only  persons  I  met  for  a  considerable 
distance  were  workmen  engaged  in  the  neighboring  pits — men 
poorly  clothed,  sallow,  and  worn,  whose  appearance  indicated  neither 
comfort  nor  intelligence.  As  I  left  Wellington,  the  tall  peak  of  the 
Wreken,  one  of  the  highest  points  of  land  in  England,  arose  on  my 
right,  and  the  clouds  began  to  distil  their  contents  upon  the  earth; 
but  before  an  hour  had  passed,  the  wind  veered  southward,  the 
sun  burst  forth  in  beauty,  and  I  found  myself  uncomfortably  warm. 
The  country  became  more  picturesque  as  I  receded  from  the  col- 
lieries, and  at  Coalbrookdale  and  Iron  Bridge,  two  small  places 
located  in  a  valley  through  which  I  passed,  the  scenery  was  grand. 
The  trees  were  clothed  in  the  foliage  of  autumn,  and  the  rich 
green  grass,  high  woody  hills,  and  rapid  pellucid  Severn  made 
a  picture  to  be  remembered  when  seen  under  a  sun  so  bright,  and 
a  sky  so  clear.  Iron  Bridge  is  an  inconsiderable  village  which 
takes  its  name  from  an  elegant  structure  of  a  single  arch,  about 
one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long,  which  spans  the  Severn  at  that 
place.  It  was  built  in  1779,  and  is  a  masterpiece  of  workman- 
ship, and  one  of  the  first  bridges  of  the  kind  erected  in  Great 
Britain. 

The  people  were  evidently  surprised  at  my  advent,  and  conjec- 
ture was  busy  as  to  who  or  what  the  stranger  was.  Nor  was  the 
curiosity  confined  altogether  to  Iron  Bridge,  for  at  Brosely  my 
appearance  created  as  much  sensation  as  if  I  had  been  a  stray  ele- 
phant, and,  however  amusing  my  visibility  may  have  been  to  the 
inhabitants,  their  ill  manners  and  rude  gazing  were  by  no  means 
agreeable  to  me,  and  I  marched  out  of  the  place  in  quick  step 
time,  and  soon  gained  the  open  country.     The  scenery  through 


274  TDE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

which  I  passed  was  beautiful  j  my  road  was  level  and  easy  of  travel ; 
and  as  it  sometimes  wound  its  course  along  the  tops  of  bills  which 
skirted  a  broad  and  highly  cultivated  valley,  it  afforded  many 
grand  prospects  of  the  surrounding  country.  The  season  waa 
the  one  for  game,  and  I  laughed  more  than  once  at  the  pomp- 
ous and  foppish  sportsmen  whom  I  encountered  in  my  walk. 
They  nearly  all  regarded  me  with  coldness  and  indifference,  and 
I  watched  them  with  an  eye  to  fun,  for  they  were,  one  and  all,  the 
greatest  wonders  in  their  particular  line  I  ever  saw. 

When  an  American  reads  in  an  English  newspaper  that  Mr. 
Smith,  or  the  Right  Honorable  Mr.  Brown,  shot  one  hundred  and 
thirty  brace  of  partridges  on  a  specified  day,  and  so  many  hares, 
rabbits,  and  pheasants  to  boot,  he  forms  a  good  opinion  of  the 
gunnery  of  the  gentleman  named,  and  very  naturally,  too ;  but,  as 
there  is  a  marked  difference  between  hunting  in  England  and  the 
same  sport  in  the  United  States,  some  account  of  the  English 
system  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  a  portion  of  my  readers,  and 
may  serve  to  correct  certain  erroneous  impressions  the  said  readers 
may  entertain  respecting  English  shooting.  It  may  not  be  gene- 
rally known  that  the  animals  and  birds  which  are,  by  law,  pre- 
served as  game  in  England,  are  comparatively  tame,  from  the  fact 
that  no  persons  but  those  of  a  privileged  class  are  allowed  to  hunt 
them,  and  that  only  at  a  certain  season;  consequently,  they  become 
accustomed  to  man  during  the  remainder  of  the  year,  and  seldom 
take  fright  when  he  appears;  and,  therefore,  when  the  hunter  or 
sportsman  makes  his  advent  at  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  he  finds  but 
little  difficulty  in  dealing  death  among  the  feathered  tribe.  Ho 
comes  prepared  with  pointers  and  setters,  whippers-iu  and  game- 
keepers, who  drive  the  devoted  birds  and  animals  from  their  co- 
vert, and  then  the  work  of  destruction  commences.  The  hares 
can  hardly  be  kicked  into  a  walk,  and  generally  sit  on  their 
haunches,  with  their  eyes  agape,  wondering  what  is  going  on; 
while  the  eager  and  delighted  sportsmen  raise  their  guns,  and,  at 
the  distance  of  ten  or  twelve  feet,  fire  at  the  astonished  and 
affrighted  victims,  who  appear  thunderstruck,  and  sit  wondering 
what  all  the  noise  and  excitement  is  about,  little  dreaming  that 
they  arc  the  cause.     The  partridges  and  pheasants  arc  better  able 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  275 

to  get  out  of  the  way  than  the  hares  and  rabbits,  for  they  gene- 
rally take  to  the  wing;  but,  as  they  scarcely  over  rise  until  the 
Nimrods  are  near  enough  to  knock  them  over  with  the  butt  end 
of  the  gun,  there  is  but  little  credit  due  sportsmen  for  marksman- 
ship. Some  of  the  young  gentlemen  I  met  were  smoking  cigars 
at  the  same  time  that  they  were  waiting  for  the  game  to  appear; 
and  one  particular  individual  did  "  murder  most  foul,  strange,  and 
unnatural'^  upon  a  poor  wretch  of  a  hare  that  happened  to  be 
roused  up  before  him.  The  animal  moved  slowly  out  of  the  grass, 
made  one  or  two  springs  to  the  distance  of  about  fifteen  or  twenty 
feet,  when,  as  it  turned  to  look  back,  the  sportsman  sent  the  con- 
tents of  his  gun  into  it,  and  was  congratulated  by  his  companions 
upon  the  ^^ excellent  shot!''  I  was  looking  over  the  fence,  at  the 
time,  and  laughed  aloud  at  the  feat  the  youth  had  accomplished, 
and  thought  that  it  would  have  been  strange  if  he  had  missed 
the  unlucky  animal ;  for  the  merest  boy  could  have  killed  it  with 
a  gun,  under  the  circumstances,  and  any  man  could  have  knocked 
it  over  with  a  club  without  difficulty,  and  saved  the  powder  and 
shot.  The  lacqueys  who  attend  the  sportsmen  are  seldom  licensed 
to  kill  game,  and  content  themselves  with  driving  it  into  the 
meshes  of  their  employers,  without  enjoying  the  pleasures  of  a 
shot,  that  being  the  exclusive  privilege  of  the  master,  and  never 
assumed  by  the  man. 

By  noon  I  entered  Bridgenorth,  a  town  of  considerable  size  on 
the  Severn,  but  rapidly  declining  in  importance,  in  consequence 
of  its  remoteness  from  railways.  It  is  remarkable  for  a  natural 
terrace,  or  public  promenade,  which  overhangs  the  river,  and  ex- 
tends for  a  mile  along  the  edge  of  the  high  cliff  on  which  the  town 
is  mainly  built.  The  footway  is  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  wide,  and 
protected,  on  the  water  side,  by  a  fine  iron  railing,  which  runs 
the  entire  length  of  the  terrace;  and,  as  the  promenade  is  full 
150  feet  above  the  level  of  the  river,  and  commands  extensive 
views,  it  is  a  most  delightful  resort,  in  clear  weather,  for  the  citi- 
zens of  the  place.  A  large  majority  of  the  English  towns  have 
some  such  place  of  public  comfort  and  pleasure,  and  it  is  greatly 
to  the  credit  of  the  authorities  that  they  have.  Bridgenorth  did 
not  have  many  attractions  for  me,  and,  having  learned  that  I  could 


276  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  highway; 

obtain  a  passage  to  Kidderminster  in  the  evening,  I  secured  a  seat 
in  a  heavy  van  or  wagon,  used  for  conveying  goods  from  place  to 
place,  and,  in  company  with  several  others,  left  the  town.  My 
fellow- passengers  were  agreeable,  the  driver  a  talkative,  jocular, 
good-natured  man,  and  the  ride  a  pleasant  one.  We  chatted  of 
the  Exhibition,  the  crops,  trade,  and  railways,  and  the  time  passed 
pleasantly  by.  Once  in  a  while,  as  we  travelled  along  the  bound- 
aries of  the  large  estates  on  the  route,  we  would  come  up  to  a  cozy 
little  lodge,  or  gatekeeper's  cottage,  over  which  ivy  and  hardy 
roses  clambered  in  profusion ;  and  as  our  driver  had  a  package 
for  nearly  every  one  of  them,  we  had  abundant  opportunity  to 
view  their  beauties,  and  admire  their  comforts.  All  looked  well, 
the  occupants  appeared  content,  and  the  children  that  peeped  from 
the  windows  were  rosy  and  healthful.  The  road  was  cut  through 
solid  sandstone  for  some  distance,  and  the  sides  were  as  smooth 
as  hewn  walls  could  be,  for  such  they  were.  The  highways  of 
England  are  usually  level,  or  as  nearly  so  as  it  is  possible  to  make 
them,  and  neither  labor  nor  money  is  spared  in  constructing 
them.  The  one  alluded  to  above  was  a  level  and  easy-travelling 
thoroughfare,  and  there  was  a  raised  footpath  its  entire  length, 
from  Bridgenorth  to  Kidderminster. 

Night  came  on  before  we  reached  our  destination,  and  as  the 
evening  air  grew  cool,  we  alighted  at  a  road-side  inn,  where  we 
were  welcomed  heartily,  and  found  a  good  coal  fire  burning  brightly 
in  the  grate.  Everything  around  looked  clean  and  tidy ;  and  we 
sat  down  by  the  warm  hearth-side  with  a  determination  to  have 
''our  pleasure  in  our  inn."  The  air  might  bite  without,  we 
heeded  it  not — and  a  glass  of  home-brewed  ale  was  better  for  us 
than  a  cold  blast,  and  soon  set  our  tongues  clattering.  A  young 
lady  who  was  of  our  company  was  very  witty  and  entertaining  in 
her  conversation,  but  I  cannot  say  that  she  won  my  admiration  by 
choosing  yln,  when  she  was  asked  what  she  would  like  to  drink ; 
but,  as  it  is  a  custom  of  the  country  for  women  to  use  both  malt 
and  distilled  liquors  as  a  beverage,  it  deserves  no  more  blame  in 
her  particular  case  than  tha  ^  of  any  other  English  female.  The 
fire  was  comfortable,  the  inn  warm  and  cheerful,  and  the  company 
sociable;  and  as  none  of  us  were  in  a  hurry,  we  spent  a  pleasant 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  277 

half  hour  in  the  road-side  hostelrie.  But  no  good  thing  lasts 
long,  and  the  time  of  departure  having  arrived,  we  were  obliged 
to  desert  the  pleasant  room,  and  take  to  the  heavy  van.  We 
rapidly  neared  the  town,  and  one  by  one  the  passengers  dropped 
oif,  as  they  arrived  at  their  homes.  The  young  lady  bade  us  adieu 
at  the  lodge  of  a  gentleman's  mansion,  where  there  was  a  good- 
looking  young  fellow  waiting  for  her;  and  as  she  alighted,  several 
prattling  children  came  running  out  to  welcome  her  home. 

One  of  my  fellow-passengers  continued  on  to  the  town  with  us. 
As  he  had  seen  me  walking  through  Coalbrookdale  in  the  morning, 
he  was  very  curious  to  know  where  I  was  from.  He  could  not 
exactly  satisfy  himself  as  to  my  fatherland,  and  as  I  take  a  par- 
ticular pleasure  in  keeping  some  people  in  suspense  respecting 
that  one  thing,  I  let  him  puzzle  his  sconce  for  a  considerable  time, 
before  I  gave  him  the  information  he  sought. 

He  told  me  he  had  seen  me  passing  through  Iron  Bridge 
early  in  the  day,  and  stated  that  I  was  the  subject  of  considerable 
curiosity,  as  none  were  able  to  comprehend  who  or  what  I  was, 
though  ^'  all  agreed  that  your  linen  was  too  good  for  one  who 
tramps  from  necessity."  I  thanked  him  for  his  compliment,  and 
told  him  where  I  was  from,  which  gave  considerable  satisfaction. 
He  was  a  sociable,  friendly  personage,  and  quite  intelligent. 

We  reached  Kidderminster,  at  a  late  hour  in  the  evening,  and 
I  found  it  utterly  impossible  to  perambulate  its  crooked  streets 
without  losing  myself,  unless  accompanied  by  a  guide,  and  there- 
fore confined  myself  for  the  remainder  of  the  night  to  the  hotel, 
and  on  the  following  morning  visited  the  principal  places  and 
buildings,  but  found  nothing  remarkable,  or  deserving  particular 
notice.  The  town  was  once  famous  for  the  manufacture  of  carpets, 
but  its  trade  has  greatly  declined,  and  the  inhabitants  complain  of 
bad  times.  The  streets  are  the  most  crooked  I  ever  beheld,  and 
I  may  be  presumed  to  have  seen  some  that  are  tolerably  awry. 
The  old  church  is  the  main  feature  of  the  place,  and  a  promenade 
for  the  citizens  claims  attention.  Baxter,  the  celebrated  non-con- 
formist, once  officiated  in  it,  but  my  time  did  not  allow  me  to  wait 
long  enough  to  gain  admittance  to  the  sacred  fane. 

Those  who  like  it  may  talk  about  railway  travelling  for  seeing 
2i 


278 

a  country,  but  give  me  an  outside  seat  on  a  good,  old-fashioned 
English  stage-coach,  and  I  will  submit  to  the  extortions  of  the 
driver  for  the  gratification  to  be  derived  from  being  conveyed 
through  the  rural  sections,  at  a  moderate  rate,  where  fine  views 
can  be  had  of  splendid  roads,  rich  valleys,  and  an  undulating 
country.  Four  horses  whirled  us  out  of  Kidderminster,  but  not 
much  can  be  said  honestly  in  favor  of  the  good  condition  of  the 
animals,  for  they  were  only  apologies  for  horses,  and  scaly  ones  at 
that.  However,  they  answered  the  purpose,  and  the  coach  moved 
rapidly  along  a  level  road,  and  through  several  cheerful  little  vil- 
lages. The  church  is  always  the  architectural  wonder  of  an  Eng- 
lish hamlet,  and  the  beauty  of  the  structure  deserves  notice.  I 
like  to  see  the  elegant  spire  or  battlemented  tower  of  a  neat  old 
Gothic  shrine,  starting  heavenward  from  a  clump  of  stately  trees  ; 
and  then  the  ancient  pile,  with  its  diamond-shaped  panes  and 
traccricd  windows,  has  an  air  of  religion  about  it,  that  I,  for  one,  am 
loath  to  divest  it  of;  there  is  scarcely  a  hamlet  or  village  in  the  land 
but  can  boast  one  of  these  quiet  fanes.  The  houses  along  my 
route  looked  as  ancient  as  the  churches,  many  of  them  being  built 
in  the  Elizabethan  style,  with  the  gable  end  facing  the  street  or 
road,  and  the  framework  of  the  structure  even  with  the  outer 
surface  of  the  wall,  the  masonry  being  painted  white,  the  wood 
black,  which  gives  the  edifice  a  look  of  antiquity  never  observed 
in  the  houses  of  our  land.  The  village  of  Ombersley,  through 
which  we  passed,  is  built  in  this  style,  and  may  be  considered  the 
most  unique  place  of  the  kind  in  the  country.  The  gables  of  the 
houses  face  the  road,  with  their  bay  windows  and  projecting  roofs 
extending  from  the  surface  of  the  wall ;  and  their  checkered  fronts 
give  an  ancient  air  to  the  street.  They  all  resemble  each  other, 
all  are  clean,  and  all  look  comfortable.  The  church  stands  in  the 
centre  of  a  green,  and  is  a  perfect  picture  of  itself,  with  its  tall, 
sharp  spire,  and  spear-shaped  windows. 

We  soon  reached  Worcester,  the  capital  of  the  county  of  that 
name,  and  its  clean  appearance,  red-brick  houses,  fine  shops,  and 
well-paved  streets  were  in  strong  contrast  to  the  towns  I  bad 
visited  the  day  previously.  Some  of  the  dwellings  are  quite  im- 
pOBing,  and  there  is  an  aristocratic  air  about  the  place  in  character 


279 

witli  its  cleanliness  and  the  stiffness  of  many  of  its  inhabitants. 
The  two  principal  thoroughfares  are  wide  for  those  of  an  English 
town,  and  the  showy  fronts  of  the  shops  and  absence  of  black  coal 
smoke  render  the  city  the  next  thing  to  elegant.  There  are  seve- 
ral extensive  porcelain  manufactories  in  the  place,  and  some  of 
the  finest  specimens  of  that  ware  made  in  Great  Britain  are  pro- 
duced in  Worcester.  Glove-making  is  also  largely  followed,  and 
the  most  celebrated  manufactory  of  those  articles  in  England  is  in 
this  city.  The  hop-market  is  one  of  the  largest  in  the  kingdom, 
and  there  is  a  building  expressly  for  the  sale  of  hops,  and  one's 
olfactories  are  constantly  assailed  by  the  odor  arising  from  the 
bitter-smelling,  but  not  unpleasant  flower,  not  only  on  market- 
days,  but  during  the  entire  week.  The  city  is  on  a  gently  sloping 
hill  on  the  banks  of  the  Severn,  and  possesses,  in  addition  to  a 
beautiful  promenade  along  the  river,  a  fine  walk  of  nearly  a  mile 
in  length,  at  the  back  of  the  town,  where  the  inhabitants  seek 
recreation.  It  is  famous  for  a  battle  which  took  place  near  it  in 
the  civil  wars  between  the  parliamentary  troops  and  those  of 
Charles  the  Second,  in  which  the  monarch  (then  Prince  Charles) 
suffered  a  most  signal  defeat.  The  scene  of  strife  is  shown  to  the 
curious,  and  the  hill  on  which  Cromwell  planted  his  artillery 
when  he  opened  his  batteries  upon  the  city.  Probably  no  name 
in  English  history  is  charged  with  so  many  outrages  and  crimes 
as  that  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  every  town  of  note  in  the  king- 
dom exhibits  the  scars  it  received  from  his  troops.  Vergers 
are  the  persons  to  paint  Oliver's  misdeeds,  and  if  a  church  or 
cathedral  bears  about  it  the  slightest  marks  of  pillage,  Old  Noll 
receives  the  credit  of  having  committed  the  injury,  whether  guilty 
or  not,  and  in  the  absence  of  another  upon  whom  to  charge  the 
act,  he,  like  the  compositors  in  the  printing-office,  bears  on  his 
shoulders  the  errors  of  his  realm  and  day. 

Like  most  of  the  provincial  cities  of  England,  Worcester  owes 
its  celebrity  mainly  to  its  famous  cathedral,  a  large  Gothic  build- 
ing of  fine  proportions  and  elegant  workmanship,  celebrated  for 
containing  the  tomb  of  King  John  of  Magna  Charta  memory, 
and  an  elaborately  finished  florid  Gothic  chapel  over  the  remains 
of  Prince  Arthur,  son  of  Henry  the  Seventh.     The  tomb  of  the 


2S0  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHWAY; 

monarch  is  the  most  ancient  royal  sepulchre  extant  in  England, 
and  occupies  a  portion  of  the  centre  aisle  of  the  cathedral  choir, 
and  is  kept  in  excellent  preservation.  The  choir  itself  is  grand, 
and  contains  some  curious  ornaments  in  the  shape  of  the  armorial 
bearings  of  the  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster  after  the  union  of 
the  two  families.  There  are  some  splendid  monuments  in  the 
transepts  and  nave,  and  one  to  Bishop  Hough,  by  Roubiliac,  is 
as  fine  a  piece  of  sculpture  as  can  be  found  to  adorn  a  tomb.  The 
principal  figure  is  that  of  the  divine  supported  by  an  angel,  who 
is  in  the  act  of  flying  and  pointing  the  way  to  heaven ;  below  is 
the  representation  of  the  trial  of  the  seven  bishops  in  the  days  of 
James  the  Second,  and  the  arrangement  and  grouping  are  master- 
pieces of  design,  lleligion  is  holding  a  Bible  in  her  hand,  and 
watching,  with  a  calm  expressive  face,  the  deliberations  of  the 
judges,  while  Justice  pleads  with  dignity  the  cause  of  Protestant- 
ism. The  artist  has  surpassed  himself  in  this  splendid  effort  of 
the  chisel,  and  produced  a  group  that  would  make  any  man  im- 
mortal in  America.  There  is  also  in  the  building  a  fine  female 
figure,  by  Chantrey,  over  the  tomb  of  the  deceased  wife  of  a  clergy- 
man. The  nave  and  side  aisles  contain  the  eflBgies  of  several 
crusaders,  wearing  coats  of  chain-armor ;  but  the  names  of  those 
to  whom  they  were  erected  are  unknown,  and  the  stranger  gazes 
upon  the  marble  figures  deeply  impressed  with  the  uncertainty  of 
worldly  fame  and  posthumous  glory.  The  cloisters  of  the  cathedral 
are  richly  groined,  and  of  quadrangular  form;  the  court-yard  in 
the  centre  being  used  for  burial  purposes.  JMany  repairs  have 
recently  been  made  in  the  sacred  edifices  of  the  country,  but  none 
of  them  impress  the  mind  more  with  the  ancient  glory  of  the  ca- 
thedrals than  the  restorations  in  the  cloisters.  The  solemn  aspect 
they  present  when  completely  restored  to  their  former  condition 
is  impressive  in  the  extreme,  and  it  docs  not  require  a  lively 
imagination  to  people  them  with  the  brethren  of  the  rosary  and 
cowl. 

I  ascended  the  tower  of  the  edifice  by  a  series  of  staircases,  and, 
after  viewing  the  eight  heavy  bolls  which  swing  within  its  walls, 
continued  up  to  the  leads,  from  which  I  enjoyed  an  extensive 
prospect  of  tho  city,  including  the   hills  of  Malvern,  with  the 


281 

towns  of  the  same  name  which  nestle  at  their  feet ;  the  valley  of 
the  sinuous  Severn,  with  its  meadows  and  bright  villages,  and  the 
distant  mountains  of  Wales. 

In  my  walks  around  the  city,  I  observed  several  objects,  besides 
the  cathedral,  worthy  of  note;  one  of  them  being  a  stone  tower  of 
solid  masonry,  erected  near  the  minster,  and  wearing  the  appear- 
ance of  having  been  at  one  time  a  portion  of  what  may  be  con- 
sidered the  city  walls.  It  is  a  massive  affair,  built  like  a  city 
gate  over  one  of  the  principal  streets,  with  turrets  at  the  tops  and 
port-holes  for  defence.  The  Guildhall  of  the  city  is  highly  orna- 
mented in  front,  and  there  is  a  profusion  of  gilding  upon  some 
of  the  scroll-work,  and  a  statue  of  Queen  Anne,  which  occupies  a 
niche  at  an  elevation  of  some  feet  above  the  principal  doorway, 
at  the  sides  of  which  are  wooden  statues  of  Charles  the  First  and 
Charles  the  Second,  both  of  whom  wear  their  crowns  with  appa- 
rent ease,  a  thing  neither  of  them  was  able  to  do  during  the 
entire  term  of  their  natural  lives. 

The  Foregate,  or  main  street,  is  nearly  straight,  but  irregular 
in  its  width,  but  still  a  fine  avenue,  and  busy  withal.  The  clear 
atmosphere,  the  clean  houses  and  streets,  the  gay  shops,  the 
numerous  churches,  rapid  Severn,  and  old  cathedral,  make  Wor- 
cester a  pleasant  place  for  the  stranger,  and  a  credit  to  its  inha- 
bitants. 


CIIAPTEPt   XXX. 

COMMERCIAL   TRAVELLERS — GLOUCESTER   AND    ITS    CATHEDRAL 
HOSTELRIES. 

There  is  a  class  of  men  in  England  who  may  be  regarded  as 
native,  and  almost  incapable  of  existing  in  any  other  land.  I 
mean  those  known  as  Commercial  Travellers.  They  are  gentle- 
men ;  generally  well  educated,  and  never  illiterate.  Shrewd, 
active,  business  men,  always  on  the  move;  and  real  birds  of 
passage — now  in  the  south,  in  a  few  days  away  to  the  west,  or 

24* 


282  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

traversing  the  eastern  or  northern  counties.  They  all  live  at 
good  hotels,  and  on  the  best  the  markets  afford,  meanness  in 
living  being  no  trait  in  their  character,  and  niggardliness  scouted 
by  all.  Their  combined  patronage  will  build  up  a  hotel,  and 
particular  houses  in  each  town  receive  their  support.  The  land- 
lords treat  them  with  great  respect,  and  servants  pay  them  par- 
ticular attention.  They  keep  late  hours,  enjoying  the  amusements 
of  the  places  in  which  they  remain  at  night,  seldom  rise  early, 
breakfast  at  fashionable  times,  dine  late  and  sumptuously,  wines 
being  indispensable  at  dinner,  and  dress  genteelly,  but  neither 
foppishly  or  in  the  current  fashion  of  the  day.  They  travel  in 
second-class  carriages,  and  go  from  the  railway  stations  to  hotels 
in  cabs  or  flies,  seldom  or  never  condescending  to  walk.  They 
are  affable,  courteous,  friendly,  and  humorous.  When  in  cities 
where  business  requires  attention,  they  perform  their  duty  first, 
and  make  all  other  things  subservient  to  their  particular  calling. 
They  are  well  informed,  and  therefore  liberal-minded,  freely  enter 
into  conversation  with  strangers,  and  readily  accommodate  them- 
selves to  the  society  into  which  they  are  thrown.  Constant  inter- 
course with  the  inhabitants  of  remote  sections  of  the  land  and 
strangers  makes  them  a  distinct  class,  and  they  meet  the  natives 
of  the  extremes  of  their  own  island  with  a  friendly  spirit,  always 
overlooking  sectional  peculiarities  and  sinking  their  early  preju- 
dices. They  regard  foreigners  as  brothers,  and  treat  a  French- 
man, a  German,  or  an  American  with  as  much  cordiality  as  one 
of  their  own  countrymen.  They  know  no  distinctions  among 
men  except  in  manners,  and  without  the  chilling  reserve  of  the 
untravelled  and  pompous  Englishman,  they  possess  all  the  self- 
respect  and  good  behavior  of  the  well-informed  and  dignified 
man,  and  never  transgress  the  laws  of  gentility.  Many  of  them 
speak  French,  or  German,  have  travelled  on  the  Continent  and  in 
Ireland,  and  converse  fluently  on  most  subjects.  They  are  strict 
disciplinarians  at  the  houses  in  which  they  stop,  and  have  a 
method  of  recognition  amounting  to  freemasonry.  They  travel 
almost  constantly,  and  seldom  remain  longer  in  a  town  than  thoir 
business  requires.  Take  them  as  a  class,  and  they  assuredly  are 
a  peculiar  one,  they  arc  eminently  original  and  distinct  from  the 


283 

balance  of  their  countrymen.  But  enough  of  their  habits  and 
customs ;  let  me  tell  you  who  and  what  they  are,  if  possible. 
They  are  attaches  of  mercantile  establishments  and  manufactories 
in  the  large  cities  and  towns,  and  travel  through  the  country, 
making  sales  by  sample.  They  ordinarily  receive  a  guinea  per 
day  for  expenses,  which  accounts  for  their  liberal  style  of  living, 
and  in  addition  to  which  they  receive  salaries  according  to  their 
capacities,  varying  from  one  hundred  to  eight  hundred  pounds 
per  annum.  Many  of  them  are  married,  but  their  almost  con- 
stant absence  from  home  estranges  them  in  a  great  measure  from 
their  families.  But  few  of  them  accumulate  fortunes,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  expensive  habits  they  acquire  in  the  performance  of 
their  duty,  and  numbers  of  them  die  prematurely,  leaving  small 
and  destitute  children  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  selfish  world. 
They  have  beneficial  societies,  and  support  one  or  more  schools 
for  the  education  of  the  orphans  of  deceased  members,  to  which 
they  contribute  liberally  and  are  very  attentive.  In  some  cases, 
they  entertain  high  notions,  and  never  lower  their  dignity  by 
patronizing  a  third-rate  house,  considering  themselves  degraded 
by  doing  so.  This  comes  from  their  employment  and  associations, 
and  necessarily  so,  as  English  society  is  constituted ;  for  the  buyer 
will  not  make  his  purchases  so  readily  from  the  Travellers  who 
stop  at  the  third-rate  as  he  will  from  those  who  frequent  the 
second-class  inns,  and  therefore  it  is  the  interest  of  the  Com- 
mercial, in  both  a  business  and  personal  point  of  view,  to  take 
up  his  abode  in  those  hotels  to  which  the  majority  give  the  pre- 
ference, and  to  which  purchasers  usually  repair. 

In  their  intercourse  with  society,  they  endeavor  to  make  them- 
selves agreeable,  knowing  well  that  cheerfulness  and  sociability, 
blended  with  good  breeding,  will  advance  their  interests  greatly. 
This  may  be  considered  selfish  by  some ;  but  charity  will  lead  the 
liberal  mind  to  conclude  that  there  is  less  of  that  spirit  in  it  than 
a  disposition  to  be  on  good  terms  with  all  men.  In  my  inter- 
course with  them,  I  found  them  as  described,  and  never  rude 
or  uncourteous — a  thing  I  cannot  say  of  some  of  their  country- 
men with  whom  I  met,  who  appeared  to  consider  themselves 
made  of  superior  cla^^  to  that  used  in  the  composition  of  the  Com- 


284  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

mercial  Traveller.  On  the  journey  from  Worcester  to  Gloucester, 
I  became  acquainted  with  one  of  the  best  of  his  class,  and  as  he 
was  an  intelligent,  sociable  man,  we  grew  quite  friendly,  and 
rode  to  Gloucester  in  company,  where,  while  he  attended  to  his 
duties,  I  rambled  about,  visiting  the  most  interesting  and  im- 
portant objects  in  the  city  and  vicinity. 

Gloucester  is  situate  on  a  plain  near  the  Severn,  and  presents 
an  air  of  cleanliness  and  beauty  never  met  with  in  the  large  manu- 
facturing towns  of  the  north.  In  fact,  the  cities  of  the  south  and 
west  of  England,  with  one  or  two  exceptions  only,  are  different  in 
nearly  every  particular  from  those  of  the  midland  and  northern 
counties.  This  comes  from  the  absence  of  great  woollen,  cot- 
ton, and  iron  manufactories,  and  the  small  amount  of  black, 
filthy  coal  soot  and  smoke  like  that  which  rises  in  such  density 
from  the  tall  chimneys  of  the  steam-engines  and  workshops  at 
the  north. 

The  principal  streets  of  the  city  cross  each  other  at  right  angles, 
but  they  are  not  uniform  in  width,  and,  consequently,  far  from 
pleasing.  The  peaked  gables,  projecting  windows,  arched  ways, 
and  great  court-yards  of  three  or  four  old  hostelries,  in  certain 
sections,  carry  the  observer  back  in  imagination  to  the  times  when 
men  made  pilgrimages  to  the  shrines  of  saints,  and  weary,  dusty 
travellers,  with  staff  and  scrip,  wallets  and  sumpter-loads,  thronged 
the  court-yard,  or  passed  the  hours  in  noisy  conversation  in  the 
large  rooms  where  the  guests  met  in  common.  But  the  old  is 
being  blended  with  the  new,  and  the  hostelrie  will,  ere  long,  dis- 
appear. Improvement  is  visible  in  Gloucester  even  now,  and 
commerce  is  enlarging  her  limits.  A  ship  canal  unites  her  docks 
with  the  Severn,  and  vessels  from  the  West  Indies,  United  States, 
and  other  foreign  lands  lie  side  by  side  at  her  wharves.  Iler 
docks  are  ample  to  accommodate  several  hundred  vesscl.<»,  and 
there  are  some  largo  warehouses  adjoining,  ecjual  in  dimensions 
to  those  of  Liverpool,  but  far  superior  in  appearance. 

The  great  architectural  feature  of  Gloucester  is  the  cathedral, 
a  grand  specimen  of  Gothic  masonry.  The  tower  is  highly 
enriched  with  windows  and  ornamental  mouldings,  graceful  pinna- 
cles, and  fine  parapets.     The  body  of  the  edifice  is  iu  character 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  285 

with  the  graceful  lantern,  the  angles  of  the  transepts  being 
adorned  with  small  pinnacled  towers  of  chaste  proportions.  The 
interior  of  the  nave,  although  grand,  did  not  impress  me  with  its 
beauty.  The  pillars  are  plain  unfluted  shafts  of  considerable 
height,  and^as  the  arches  are  Gothic,  bounded  by  heavy  zigzag 
mouldings,  they  have  the  massive  appearance  of  the  plain  Grecian 
column.  The  windows  are  rich  in  colors,  and  the  entire  effect 
upon  the  mind  is  impressive,  but  not  imposing.  There  is  a  solid 
grandeur  about  the  interior  rarely  observed  in  Gothic  edifices, 
and  not  so  much  of  the  foliated  chiselling  and  elaborate  ornament 
usual  to  the  style. 

The  choir  is  exquisite.  The  groining  and  mouldings,  the 
tracery  and  carvings,  and  clustered  columns  are  like  beautiful  em- 
broidery petrified;  and  when  the  modified  and  mellowed  light 
streams  through  the  immense  and  gorgeous  east  window,  the 
largest  in  the  world,  that  section  of  the  edifice  wears  an  air  of 
grandeur  and  solemn  magnificence  it  would  be  difficult  to  describe 
to  one  who  has  never  seen  the  interior  of  a  richly  ornamented 
Gothic  fane  of  past  centuries.  The  stalls  of  the  prebendaries  at 
each  side  of  the  choir  are  of  carved  oak,  and  represent  some 
strange  scenes.  One  of  these  is  two  knights  playing  at  dice,  and 
each  is  completely  absorbed  in  the  game.  Others  defy  description, 
but  all  are  curious,  and  the  most  of  them  decidedly  inappropriate 
church  ornaments. 

The  morning  service  was  begun  while  I  was  in  the  cathedral; 
but,  by  speaking  to  a  verger,  I  obtained  a  guide  to  conduct  me 
through  the  edifice,  and  point  out  its  attractions.  A  modest 
young  girl,  arrayed  in  a  neat  dress  of  black,  was  introduced  to  me, 
and  we  soon  became  sociable.  She  was  intelligent,  and  well 
versed  in  the  history  of  the  shrine,  and  the  principal  objects  con- 
nected with  it.  We  slowly  paced  the  lengthened  aisles,  she  point- 
ing out  the  tombs,  and  I  admiring  them.  One  old,  solemn  monu- 
ment, in  the  chancel,  was  particularly  attractive,  in  consequence 
of  its  position  and  the  excellent  preservation,  of  the  figure  and  or- 
naments. It  is  in  an  exquisite  florid  Gothic  chapel,  through  the 
stained  windows  of  which  the  shadowy  sunlight  wavered,  as  I 


286  THE  POOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

stood  at  its  side,  with  my  gentle  guide  opposite,  with  her  arm  rest- 
ing upon  the  prostrate  crusader. 

''This,"  said  she,  "is  the  tomb  of  Robert,  Duke  of  Normandy, 
the  eldest  son  of  William  the  Conqueror.  The  figure  is  carved 
in  Irish  bog-oak,  and  remarkably  perfect,  considering  that  it  was 
executed  so  early  as  1134." 

The  effigy  is  a  masterpiece  of  work,  encased  in  a  coat  of  chain 
armor,  the  right  hand  crossing  the  body,  and  resting  upon  the  hilt 
of  a  sword.  The  face  is  expressive  and  the  features  unimpaired, 
which  are  unusual  in  figures  of  so  great  an  age.  The  legs  are 
crossed,  crusader-like,  showing  that  the  stern  warrior,  to  whose 
memory  the  tomb  was  reared,  was  engaged  in  the  mad  expeditions 
of  his  class  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  won  honorable  distinction 
there. 

Thoughts  of  the  past  entered  my  mind,  when  gazing  on  the 
musty  monument — of  arm.ed  knights  and  mailed  cavaliers,  Nor- 
man barons  and  boorish  retainers.  That  figure  is  well  calcu- 
lated to  recall  to  mind  the  dim  events  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
and  the  romance  of  history.  The  interior  of  the  beautiful  cha- 
pel was  a  picture,  to  me,  as  we  stood  on  the  side  of  the  pros- 
trate crusader,  conversing  of  his  deeds  of  valor  and  daring.  What 
a  change,  thought  I,  since  he  who  rests  below  walked  upright 
upon  the  earth !  Then,  the  noble  wielded  more  power  than  Eng- 
land's monarch  at  the  present  day.  Now,  a  timid,  gentle  maiden 
shows,  as  a  curiosity,  the  tomb  of  one,  once  mighty,  whose  literary 
attainments  are  surpassed,  at  this  time,  by  those  of  nearly  every 
ploughman  in  the  country. 

In  the  same  chancel  is  the  tomb  of  Edward  the  Second, 
who  was  murdered  at  Berkley  Castle  in  1327.  It  is  near  the 
high  altar,  and  adorned  with  a  figure  of  the  king,  in  repose,  finely 
carved,  and  in  good  preservation.  As  we  entered  the  north  tran- 
sept, my  attention  was  arrested  by  a  Uiblet  in  the  wall  to  the 
"  memory  of  Gen.  Wm.  Lyman,  of  Massachusetts,  late  United 
States  Consul  to  London,  who  departed  (his  life  22d  ScptemlKjr, 
1811!"  The  incident  may  not  be  worth  mentioning,  but  an 
American  is  glad  to  meet  his  countrymen  in  a  foreign  land,  dead 
or  alive  j  and  I  am  sure  that,  if  1  did  not  derive  pleasure  from 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  287 

reading  the  inscription  quoted,  I  came  on  it  so  unexpectedly  that 
I  read  it  with  more  interest  than  I  would  have  done  had  it  not 
marked  the  resting-place  of  one  of  my  countrymen.  And  then  it 
was  some  gratification  to  know  that  he  was  buried  beside  dukes 
and  kings;  although  it  is  more  than  probable  that  he  was  a 
better  man  than  either  of  his  ducal  or  royal  neighbors. 

The  cloisters  of  the  cathedral  are  the  finest  in  England,  the 
roof  being  embellished  with  superb  fan  tracery.  The  nave  is  im- 
posing, and  adorned  with  modern  monuments  and  statues,  the  best 
being  that  of  Dr.  Jenner,  the  discoverer  of  the  Kine  Pox  and  vacci- 
nation. There  is  a  tablet  to  the  memory  of  a  clergyman,  who  ma- 
terially aided  Robert  Raikes,  the  printer,  and  founder  of  Sunday- 
schools,  in  his  laudable  endeavors  to  establish  those  institutigns 
permanently.  The  names  of  both  are  mentioned  on  the  marble; 
but  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  founder  of  Sunday-schools  deserves 
a  separate  monument,  instead  of  the  bare  cold  mention  made  of 
him  on  the  tablet  of  one  who  owes  his  fame  to  money.  Glou- 
cester is  his  birthplace,  and  there  should  be  his  grave,  and  a 
tribute  to  his  worth.  Every  Sunday-school  child  in  Christendom 
would  contribute  something  to  his  monument,  if  a  project  to  build 
one  were  set  on  foot ;  and  what  more  appropriate  place  for  it  than 
Gloucester  Cathedral !  From  the  far  lands,  from  the  isles  of  the 
sea,  and  remote  sections  of  the  earth,  contributions  would  be  sent; 
and  lisping  children  of  every  clime,  by  their  united  efforts,  would 
raise  to  Robert  Raikes's  memory  a  record  at  once  appropriate  and 
honorable  to  his  name. 


288  THE  rOOTPATH  AND  HIGUWAY  ; 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE  WEST  OF  ENGLAND — BRISTOL — ST.  MARY  REDCLIFFE — SIR 
WM.  draper's  tomb — STERNE's  ELIZA — LADY  HESKETH — 
CLIFTON  DOWNS— COLSTON  SCHOOL — PRONUNCIATION. 

The  west  of  England  is  mostly  undulating,  and  well  wooded. 
There  is  less  sterility  than  at  the  north,  and  greater  diversity  of 
scenery,  and  none  of  the  flatness  of  the  large  eastern  counties. 
The  spirit  of  manufacture  is  not  so  much  encouraged  as  in  Lan- 
cashire, and  there  are  no  large  cities  with  clouds  of  smoke  hover- 
ing over  them  to  prove  the  existence  of  white  slavery  and  great 
monopolies.  The  woollen  manufacture  is  on  a  large  scale,  but  in 
a  more  primitive  condition  than  in  Yorkshire.  The  factories  are 
in  the  country,  on  the  banks  of  pellucid  streams ;  are  mostly  clean, 
cheerful-looking  edifices,  differing,  in  every  particular,  from  the 
dingy,  prison-like  castles  of  the  northern  cities.  Capital  does  not 
appear  to  have  swept  away  the  man  of  limited  means ;  and  here 
and  there,  throughout  the  rural  sections,  the  traveller  sees  mills 
of  moderate  dimensions  surrounded  by  a  village  of  neat  and  com- 
fortable cottages.  Between  Bristol  and  Gloucester  such  are 
numerous.  They  are  similar  in  build  to  the  isolated  cotton 
factories  of  the  United  States ;  and  the  fact  of  the  atmosphere 
around  them  being  clear  proves  that  the  workmen,  when  out  of 
their  shops,  enjoy  pure  air,  a  luxury  seldom  indulged  in  by  the 
operatives  of  Leeds  and  Halifax,  towns  over  which  the  smoke 
hangs  too  thick  for  easy  breathing.  Bristol  is,  perchance,  the 
exception,  in  respect  to  cleanliness,  among  the  towns  of  the  west 
of  England;  but  even  it,  with  its  dirt  and  inky  atmosphere,  is 
not  so  bad  as  its  sister  cities  of  the  north. 

When  a  man  enters  a  largo  town  alone,  and  passes  along  its 
streets  without  recognizing  a  face  or  meeting  a  mortal  who  knows 
him,  he  feels  a  sense  of  solitude  as  keen  as  that  which  comes  over 
him  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  or  the  wide-foaming  waste  of 


[ 


289 

ocean.    He  presses  forward  througli  the  throngs  that  fill  the  streets 
without  exchanging  a  word  with  a  single  individual,  unheeded, 
but  not  unheeding.    Not  one  of  the  hundreds  whom  he  encounters 
meets  him  with  a  friendly  look,  and  he  searches  in  vain  among 
the  passing  faces  for  a  glance  of  recognition.     His  unusual  dress 
may  attract  the  momentary  attention  of  an  idle  boy  or  curiosity- 
seeker,  but,  as  soon  as  the  observer  is  satisfied  with  gazing,  he 
pursues  his  way  without  a  word  of  friendship  to  the  stranger.    On 
the  wanderer  goes,  and  the  deeper  he  penetrates  into  the  city  the 
denser  becomes  the  mass  of  humanity,  and  the  more  indifferent 
he  becomes  to  them.     With  feelings  such  as  a  solitary  stranger 
may  be  supposed  to  entertain  under  like  circumstances,  I  en- 
tered the  really  ancient-looking  city  of  Bristol.    A  tide  of  mortals 
poured  along  the  thoroughfare  in  which  I  trod  with  my  knapsack 
at  my  side,  and  as  the  haze  of  an  autumn  evening  slowly  settled 
around,  the  antique  houses  on  either  side  of  the  narrow,  crooked, 
and  circumscribed  way  more  forcibly  reminded  me,  than  the  in- 
different crowd,  of  my  isolated  and  lonely  situation.     I  felt  that  I 
was  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  but  it  was  a  melancholy  feeling 
of  pleasure,  and  one  that  I  rather  encouraged  than  dismissed  from 
my  thoughts.      The  lights  began  to  glimmer  in   the  windows 
before  I  reached  an  inn,  and  as  I  passed  over  the  old  bridge  made 
renowned  by  the  genius  of  Chatterton,  the  recollection  of  him 
flashed  across  my  mind,  and  I  stopped  to  survey  the  objects  around 
me,  and  breathe  a  sigh  for  the  "  boy  bard  of  Bristol.''   On  I  went, 
looking  now  on  this  side,  now  on  that,  in  search  of  a  place  of  rest, 
and  at  the  end  of  another  quarter  of  an  hour  came  up  to  an  old 
gable-fronted  building,  with  bay-windows,  filled  with  diamond- 
shaped  panes,  having  a  passage-way  which  led  into  a  court-yard. 
I  was  a  dusty  pilgrim,  with  staff  and  shell,  and  this  was,  in  truth, 
an  ancient  hostelrie.    There  were  some  servants  in  the  space,  and 
the  light  of  the  lamps  revealed  to  my  sight  a  series  of  stories,  one 
rising  above  the  other,  around  each  of  which  was  a  gallery.    The 
attendant  took  my  pack,  and  ushered  me  into  a  cheerful  room, 
where   a  bright  sea-coal  fire  burned   briskly  and  a  number  of 
gentlemen  were  enjoying  their  tea.      The  people  did  not  have 
the  look  of  the  ancient  day,  and  I  soon  dismissed  from  my 
25 


290  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

thoughts  the  idea  that  I  had  been  transported  back  three  centu- 
ries into  the  company  of  men  contemporary  with  Queen  Bess. 
They  were  not  subjects  of  the  virgin  ruler  of  England,  not  they. 
Doublets  and  hose  they  scorned,  and  ruffles  found  no  favor  with 
them.  The  inn  was  ancient ;  they  were  modern,  and  dressed  in 
the  mode  of  Victoria's  reign,  not  that  of  Elizabeth. 

Tired  of  a  long  walk,  I  found  sweet  repose  before  the  parlor 
fire,  and  relaxation  from  the  toil  of  travel.  Sleep  invited  to  rest, 
and  I  was  led,  like  a  sheep  to  slaughter,  up  several  pairs  of  stairs, 
and  along  three  or  more  galleries  to  the  room  assigned  me.  I  was 
bewildered  with  the  windings,  and  would  have  perished  in  the 
flames,  no  doubt,  had  the  house  been  burned  that  night,  because 
I  would  not  have  been  able  to  retrace  my  steps,  and,  consequently, 
could  not  have  escaped.  The  sleeping  apartment,  except  the 
bed,  was  in  character  with  the  exterior  of  the  house,  and  its 
secluded  court-yard.  The  floors  were  oak ;  the  room  wain- 
scoted; the  windows  of  diamond-panes  set  in  leads;  and  the 
ceiling  ornamented  with  the  arms  of  some  defunct  noble.  It  was 
a  place  to  dream  in,  and  I  lay  down  with  vague  impressions  on 
my  mind  of  being  in  the  company  of  staid  old  fellows  in  un- 
fashionable breeches  and  powdered  wigs,  but  thought  no  more  of 
them,  and  awoke  at  daylight  with  the  happy  consciousness  of 
having  enjoyed  a  good  sound  sleep  in  a  comfortable  downy  bed. 

A  daylight  ramble,  through  the  olden  part  of  the  town,  contri- 
buted to  my  gratification.  The  houses  almost  touch  each  other 
at  the  upper  stories  as  they  bend  across  the  street.  The  gables 
face  the  avenues,  and  as  the  stories  project  one  over  the  other, 
they  form  a  shelter  for  the  pedestrian.  Some  of  the  dwellings 
arc  richly  ornamented  on  the  front  with  strange  carvings,  oriel 
windows,  foliated  mouldings,  and  scroll-work  of  gay  designs,  with 
doors  of  solid  oak.  One  not  accustomed  to  such  things  notices 
all,  and  finds  pleasure  in  contemplating  the  curious  and  quaint  in 
the  architecture  of  Bristol,  a  city  with  more  of  the  really  ancient 
left  it  than  any  other  in  England.  It  is  largo,  with  narrow, 
crooked,  and  dirty  streets.  Some  of  the  more  fashionable  avenues 
in  the  business  part  abound  in  fine  showy  shops  and  good  modern 
dwellings,  but  the  by*gtreets  are  quaint  and  curious,  Elizabethan 


291 

and  dreamy.  The  city  was  famous  centuries  ago,  and  carried  on 
an  extensive  foreign  trade  when  even  London  had  but  little  com- 
merce. Its  merchants  then  were  numerous  and  wealthy,  and  be 
it  said  charitable,  for  Bristol  has  one  or  more  institutions  at  this 
day  of  a  benevolent  character  established  centuries  ago  by  her 
merchant  princes. 

The  river  (or  more  properly  rivers!)  flows  through  the  city, 
and  as  the  waters  are  navigable  for  large  vessels,  numbers  of  ships 
line  the  quays.  Several  bridges  cross  the  streams  at  different 
points  in  the  town,  and  crowds  throng  them,  but  not  such  as  were 
wont  "to  checker  the  Rialto;"  but  merchants  of  another  class, 
itinerant  dealers  in  fruits,  &c.  The  new  portion,  known  as  Clifton, 
is  a  place  of  "  magnificent  distances,"  and  very  irregular.  It  is 
built  as  if  every  individual  proprietor  were  determined  to  have  a 
street  of  his  own,  regardless  of  the  taste  or  convenience  of  his  neigh- 
bor ;  and  as  the  ground  is  hilly,  there  is  great  diversity  of  surface 
and  scenery.  There  are  plenty  of  streets  with  fine  names  ;  cres- 
cents and  terraces;  parks  and  places ;  squares  and  rows;  and  hills 
and  hollows  in  abundance,  but  still  great  beauty.  There  are  nu- 
merous noble  views  from  the  hills  in  the  parks,  and  from  Clifton 
Downs,  which  will  repay  for  the  trouble  of  climbing.  The  best 
is  that  of  the  Avon  and  Severn  from  St.  Vincent's  Rock,  a  bold, 
precipitous  clifi",  which  overhangs  the  first  named  stream. 

One  of  my  earliest  visits  was  to  St.  Mary  Redcliffe — the  church 
made  celebrated  by  the  genius  of  Chatterton.  I  threaded  my  way 
for  a  considerable  distance  through  old  and  gloomy  streets — dark 
as  those  in  Eastern  cities — now  surrounded  by  a  mass  of  filthy, 
barefooted  children,  and  anon  in  a  crowd  of  slatternly  women  and 
ill-looking  men — until  I  emerged  into  the  full  light  of  day  in  a 
wide  space  before  the  splendid  edifice.  The  spirit  of  restoration 
was  rife  then,  so  far  as  repairing  the  churches  of  Bristol  went, 
and  St.  Mary's  was  undergoing  many  improvements.  The  new 
masonry  and  sculpture  are  excellent,  and  bear  evidence  to  the  fact 
that  the  artisans  of  this  day  are  equally  capable  of  producing 
fine  buildings  as  those  of  bygone  centuries,  when  they  have 
the  opportunity.  The  edifice  is  large  and  unusually  fine,  being 
in  three  several  styles  of  Gothic  architecture,  and  rich  in  mould- 


292  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHWAY  ; 

ings,  carvings,  and  elaborate  ornaments.  It  is  in  the  cruciform 
eliape,  and  bears  a  greater  resemblance  to  a  monastery  or  cathedral 
than  a  simple  church. 

I  entered  its  walls  with  feelings  of  admiration  bordering  on  en- 
thusiasm, because  they  are  hallowed  by  the  genius  of  Chatterton, 
and  historically  blended  with  the  names  of  Canynge  and  Rowley, 
the  reputed  author  and  the  presumed  preserver  of  the  poems  pub- 
lished by  the  proud  boy  in  an  obsolete  language,  the  better  to  deceive 
mankind.  The  interior  is  very  fine,  having  the  appearance  of 
a  cathedral.  I  wandered  through  the  nave  and  aisles,  and,  after 
noticing  the  principal  objects  there,  ascended  to  the  Muniment 
room  over  the  north  porch,  where  the  Rowley  MSS.  were  reported 
to  have  been  discovered.  The  chamber  is  sextangular,  of  consider- 
able extent,  the  windows  being  without  glass,  and  open  to  the 
weather.  The  old  coffers,  or  chests,  which  once  contained  the 
records  of  Canynge's  mercantile  operations,  are  open  and  empty, 
but  still  regarded  with  veneration,  and  preserved  in  the  same  con- 
dition in  which  they  were  left  by  the  authorities  under  whose 
direction  they  were  broken  open  nearly  a  century  ago.  The  place 
is  secluded,  and  just  suited  to  such  a  mind  as  that  of  the  wonderful 
youth,  whose  literary  forgeries  have  made  it  famous,  and  sought 
for  by  the  admirers  of  his  extraordinary,  but  misapplied  talents. 

I  have  ever  felt  an  admiration  for  Chatterton,  and  visited  his 
native  city  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  those  places  made  renowned  by 
his  writings.  The  church  just  mentioned  is  the  most  interesting 
object  extant  connected  with  the  history  of  the  wayward  boy,  and 
pilgrimages  arc  made  to  it  by  the  admirers  of  his  genius.  The 
interior  is  imposing  and  handsomely  ornamented.  While  roaming 
about  it,  I  observed  several  interesting  mementos  of  the  past — 
two  of  which  are  original  paintings  by  Hogarth,  of  large  dimensions, 
executed  by  the  artist  expressly  for  the  church  during  his  resi- 
dence in  Rristol.  The  designs  are  scriptural  and  well  drawn,  but 
the  coloring,  although  good,  partakes  too  much  of  West's  brick 
shade  to  be  pleasing. 

The  tombs  of  Rowley  and  Canynge  are  in  the  usual  style  of 
such  works  of  past  centuries,  and  owe  their  celebrity  more  to  the 
talents  of  the  bard  than  to  their  artistic  merits.     Near  them, 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  293 

attached  to  one  of  the  columns  of  the  south  transept,  is  a  marble 
tablet,  on  which  is  engraved  a  long  history  of  the  services  of  Sir 
William  Penn,  the  father  of  the  founder  of  Pennsylvania. 
The  guide  insisted  that  it  was  to  the  memory  of  the  grandfather 
of  the  Quaker,  but  the  date  1670  sets  the  matter  at  rest.  Several 
torn  and  decayed  banners,  captured  by  the  deceased  in  battle, 
hang  motionless  in  the  dead  air  above  his  tomb,  together  with  a 
coat  of  mail,  visor,  gloves,  and  pair  of  spurs,  the  property  of  the 
admiral  in  his  lifetime.  The  family  escutcheon,  also,  adorns  the 
column,  but  the  motto  "Pennsylvania"  is  not  on  the  scroll,  as  at 
Stoke  Pogis. 

"The  dim,  religious  light,"  which  diffuses  itself  through  the 
interior  of  St.  Mary  Redcliffe,  must  have  had  its  effect  upon  the 
gloomy  mind  of  Chatterton;  and  that  the  idea  of  his  literary 
forgeries  was  suggested  to  him,  when  musing  over  the  tombs  of 
Canynge  and  his  contemporaries,  is  probable  from  the  fact 
that  he  was  familiar,  to  a  certain  extent,  with  the  history  of  the 
Bristol  merchant,  and  in  the  constant  habit  of  passing  hours  in 
the  church.  He  knew  that  the  world  would  scout  the  idea  of  one 
so  young  as  himself  being  able  to  produce  the  poems  he  composed, 
and  the  rejected  papers  obtained  from  the  coffers  of  Canynge, 
in  connection  with  his  reflections  among  the  tombs,  decided  him 
to  impose  upon  the  world,  as  the  works  of  Rowley,  the  productions 
of  his  own  mind.  Chagrined  and  disappointed  in  his  ambitious 
schemes,  he  died  by  his  own  hand  at  an  age  when  others  are  but 
children,  and  a  cold,  selfish  world  heeded  not  his  struggles  and 
manly  battles  against  adversity.  Uncomplaining  fortitude  in  him 
was  a  crime,  and  he  expired  without  a  friend  to  mourn  his  un- 
timely and  melancholy  fate.  The  austerely  pious  may  condemn 
his  rashness  and  unbending  will,  but  the  truly  charitable  and  hu- 
mane will  regret  his  end,  and  hope  that  the  Grreat  Creator,  in  his 
infinite  mercy,  has  granted  to  the  proud  boy  in  another  and  a  better 
world  that  exemption  from  misery  and  pain  he  never  enjoyed  in 
this. 

Bristol  is  built  so  oddly  as  to  defy  a  pen  and  ink  description, 
and  the  only  way  to  convey  an  idea  of  it  in  writing  is  to  give 
short  general  sketches.    Two  streams  and  a  canal  run  through  it, 

25* 


294  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

but  their  course  is  so  irregular  that  one  descriptive  expression 
will  suffice  for  all — abominably  crooked !  The  larger  of  the  two 
rivers  has  a  wide  quay  on  cither  side,  and  lies  between  the  new 
town  known  as  Clifton,  and  the  old  part  of  the  city,  where  the 
trade  is  mainly  transacted.  There  is  wide  space  on  either  side, 
between  it  and  the  houses,  which  is  crowded  during  the  day 
with  people,  and  vans  laden  with  merchandise.  The  thoroughfare 
is  the  most  direct  road  to  the  cathedral  and  Bristol  Downs,  and 
consequently  much  crowded.  I  wandered  along  until  I  reached 
the  old  church  of  St.  Augustine,  an  elegant  Gothic  edifice  of 
considerable  extent,  surrounded  by  a  graveyard  thickly  studded 
with  tombstones.  While  loitering  in  the  ground,  the  sexton  di- 
rected me  to  the  last  resting-place  of  a  man  whose  fame  comes 
down  to  us  more  because  of  its  accidental  connection  with  the  "  Let- 
ters of  Junius,"  than  of  any  particular  merit  of  its  owner,  although 
Sir  William  Draper  was  not  a  common  man.  He  provoked  the 
enmity  of  a  writer  whose  lash  he  could  not  bear,  and  whose  powers 
he  misjudged;  and  found,  too  late,  that  he  had  unwittingly  out- 
generalled  himself  (as  many  military  men  have  done  both  before 
and  since  his  time)  by  trusting  too  much  to  his  ability  to  wield 
the  pen  and  too  little  to  the  sword.  The  sarcasm  and  pungency 
of  Junius's  sentences  were  too  severe,  and  after  seeking,  unsuc- 
cessfully, forgetfulness  of  his  mortifications  in  America,  ho 
returned  to  his  native  city,  where  he  died  of  a  broken  spirit,  and 
was  buried  in  the  same  grave  with  those  from  whose  blood  ho 
sprung.  But  few  are  cognizant  of  his  burial-place,  and  fewer  j'et 
seek  it  out.  His  memory  will  live  longer  in  the  pages  of  "Junius" 
than  those  of  military  history;  and  as  I  stood  by  his  tomb,  I  could 
not  avoid  moralizing  on  the  follies  of  ambition,  when  I  discovered 
that  the  stone  did  not  even  bear  his  name.  The  survivors  of  the 
knight  did  not  thiuk  it  proper  to  encumber  his  tomb  with  an 
epitaph,  and  those  curious  to  ktjow  must  learn  the  locality  of  the 
resting-place  from  the  sexton,  in  whoso  memory  is  tbo  register  of 
the  dead  within  his  realm. 

The  vicinity  was  evidently  a  favorite  of  the  ecclesiastics  of  old, 
as  the  cathedral,  a  fine  cruciform  building,  is  but  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  church.     The  old  pile  is  fine,  both  internally  and 


295 

exterually.  The  transepts  and  aisles  are  adorned  with  numerous 
monuments,  some  of  which  are  elegant,  and  others  of  more  than 
ordinary  interest  even  to  the  casual  observer.  The  edifice  may 
not  inappropriately  be  called  a  second  Westminster  Abbey;  and 
if  the  fact  of  its  being  the  last  resting-place  of  many  who  have 
been  distinguished  for  genius,  or  amability  and  personal  excel- 
lence, be  sufl&cient  to  entitle  it  to  the  appellation,  then  it  is  richly 
deserving  the  name.  As  I  entered  the  sacred  fane,  the  first 
object  that  arrested  my  attention  was  a  monument  in  the  form  of 
a  Gothic  arch,  within  which  are  two  female  figures,  chastely  sculp- 
tured from  pure  statuary  marble — one  representing  Genius,  the 
other  Benevolence;  each  pointing  to  a  tablet  between  them,  on 
which  is  engraved  an  epitaph  to  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Draper — Sterne's  Eliza. 

The  attention  I  paid  the  record  and  monument  was  observed 
by  one  of  the  vergers,  a  gentlemanly  man,  who  immediately  ten- 
dered his  services  to  guide  me  through  the  building.  We  turned 
to  the  left  from  the  transept  into  the  north  aisle,  where  there  are 
several  fine  pieces  of  sculpture,  not  the  least  deserving  of  notice  of 
which  is  a  bust  of  Kobert  Sour.hey,  by  Bailey,  one  of  the  best 
of  English  statuaries.  The  form  has  the  appearance  of  life;  the 
features  are  chiselled  with  a  masterly  hand,  bearing  in  every 
line  an  unmistakable  resemblance  to  the  original.  The  peculiari- 
ties of  mind  of  the  versatile  poet  are  forcibly  depicted,  and  the 
physiognomist  can  trace  instantly,  in  the  speechless  representative, 
the  character  of  the  man.  In  the  same  section  of  the  edifice  is 
a  rather  gaudy  and  heavy  monument,  deficient  in  chasteness  and 
purity  of  design,  but  still  interesting,  from  being  to  the  memory 
of  the  wife  of  the  Rev.  William  Mason,  the  friend  and  companion 
of  Gray.  The  record  is  simple,  concluding  with  the  incomparable 
lines  of  the  author  of  "  Elfrida,''  the  acknowledged  merit  of  which 
has  procured  them  a  place  in  the  classic  poetry  of  England,  and  a 
repetition  here,  however  trite  it  may  appear,  cannot  impair  their 
beauty : — 


296  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

**  Take,  holy  earth,  all  that  my  soul  holds  dear : 

Take  that  best  gift  which  heaven  so  lately  gave ; 
To  Bristol's  font  1  bore,  with  trembling  care, 

Ilcr  faded  form:  she  bowed  to  taste  the  wave, 
And  died.     Does  youth,  does  beauty  read  the  line? 

Does  sympathetic  fear  their  breasts  alarm? 
Speak,  dead  Maria,  breathe  a  strain  divine; 

Even  from  the  grave  thou  shalt  have  power  to  charm : 
Bid  them  be  chaste,  be  innocent  like  thee ; 

Bid  them  in  duty's  sphere  as  meekly  move; 
And  if  so  fair,  from  vanity  as  free, 

As  firm  in  friendship  and  as  fond  in  love, 
Tell  them,  tho'  'tis  an  awful  thing  to  die, 

('Twas  even  to  thee,)  yet,  the  dread  path  once  trod. 
Heaven  lifts  its  everlasting  portals  high. 

And  bids  the  pure  in  heart  behold  their  God." 

There  is  a  neat  marble  tablet,  in  the  east  wall  of  the  south 
transept,  to  the  memory  of  *'  Dame  Harriet  Hesketh,  the  relative 
and  valued  friend  of  the  great  moral  poet  Cowper."  Her  remains 
rest  in  a  tomb  in  the  south  aisle,  covered  by  a  flat  stone  bearing 
an  unostentatious  inscription.  The  admirer  of  the  letters  of  the 
amiable  poet  of  Olney  muses  with  peculiar  feeling  over  her  grave, 
for  to  her  genius  and  sincere  friendship  for  the  bard  the  world 
owes  the  production  and  perusal  of  some  of  the  finest  epistolary 
compositions  in  the  English  tongue. 

The  architecture  of  Bristol  Cathedral  is  Gothic,  and  although 
the  edifice  is  of  moderate  dimensions,  it  is  handsome.  The  chap- 
ter-house is  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  pure  Norman  extant. 
The  verger  led  me  to  it,  and  his  descriptions  of  its  beauties  were 
far  from  exaggerations.  The  windows  are  adorned  with  glass  of 
splendid  coloring,  the  decorations  of  the  walls  arc  superb,  and 
the  interlacings  of  the  Norman  arches  exquisitely  beautiful. 
While  I  was  admiring  the  department,  one  of  the  resident  clergy- 
men entered,  and  approached  me  in  an  easy,  friendly  manner,  so 
Christianlike  as  to  gain  my  esteem  at  once.  There  was  no  hy- 
pocrisy in  his  face,  and  his  sociable,  gentlemanly  deportment,  and 
cheerful,  communicative  disposition  were  indicative  of  true  piety. 
He  conducted  me  to  one  angle  of  the  room,  and  directed  my  at- 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  297 

tcntion  to  the  glories  of  the  edifice  with  an  evident  desire  to  con- 
tribute as  far  as  he  could  to  my  gratification.  The  mouldings,  the 
stained  glass,  the  painted  walls,  the  harmonious  proportions,  all 
the  splendors  of  the  place  were  pointed  out  with  care,  and  I 
scarcely  knew  which  to  admire  most,  the  conversation  and  amiable 
manners  of  the  man,  or  the  grandeur  and  perfection  of  the  archi- 
tecture. Both  were  gems,  and  both  deserving  a  niche  in  the  tem- 
ple of  memory.  There  was  a  spirit  of  gentleness  about  the  man, 
and  dignity  of  character  blended  with  humility,  that  argued  in  my 
mind  the  sincere  Christian  and  upright  being,  and  satisfied  me  that 
he  was  in  fact  what  he  professed,  and  at  the  same  time  an  honor 
to  his  sect  and  calling.  My  visit  was  pleasant,  and  I  left  the  old 
fane  much  gratified  with  what  I  heard  and  saw. 

The  spirit  of  improvement  and  restoration  is  evident  in  Bristol, 
and  not  confined  to  the  churches.  At  one  extreme  of  an  open 
space  or  park,  called  College  Green,  near  the  cathedral,  the  city 
authorities  have  recently  caused  to  be  erected  a  light,  airy,  chaste, 
florid  Gothic  market-cross,  which,  for  delicacy  and  richness  of  or- 
nament, cannot  be  surpassed.  It  is  of  a  light-colored  stone,  in  the 
most  finished  style  of  the  florid  period,  and  yet  not  so  elaborately 
ornamented  or  decorated  with  rich  carvings  as  to  create  in  the 
mind  of  the  beholder  an  idea  of  profusion.  It  is  open,  with  fine, 
bold,  well-proportioned  arches  and  buttresses,  and  pinnacles  at  the 
angles,  and  as  it  stands  in  a  grove  of  trees  it  appears  to  great  ad- 
vantage. 

The  principal  parks  are  on  the  Clifton  side  of  the  harbor,  and 
are  large  and  handsome.  I  walked  through  several,  and  visited 
the  Downs,  a  public  ground  lying  at  the  top  of  the  eastern  bank 
of  the  Avon,  known  as  St.  Vincent's  Rocks.  The  surface  is 
irregular,  and  as  the  elevation  is  great,  a  fine  view  is  afi"orded 
of  the  surrounding  country  and  the  deep  chasm  through  which 
the  river  flows.  On  the  summit  are  the  remains  of  an  ancient 
Koman  fortification  200  yards  in  length  and  150  feet  wide.  The 
form  is  semicircular,  and  traces  of  a  fosse  are  visible.  The  walls 
are  composed  of  limestone  piled  in  regular  line,  and  cemented 
together  with  heated  mortar  so  solidly  as  almost  to  defy  separa- 
tion even  at  this  period.     On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  simi- 


298  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGnWAYj 

lar  remains  exist,  and  antiquaries  are  of  opinion  that  those  on 
Clifton  Down  constituted  the  most  important  Roman  camp  in 
western  Britain,  and  here  were  beacon-fires  lighted  when  dan- 
ger threatened  the  minor  fortresses  in  the  valleys,  the  remains 
of  many  of  which  still  exist  in  the  surrounding  country. 

Clifton  is  the  fashionable  section  of  the  city,  and  much  resorted 
to  by  invalids  who  seek  the  advantages  of  its  mineral  waters.  The 
walks  around  the  springs  and  baths  are  romantic,  and  command 
in  clear  weather  fine  prospects  in  every  direction.  The  atmo- 
sphere is  salubrious,  being  exempt  from  the  thick,  black  smoko 
which  impregnates  the  air  over  Bristol.  Its  streets  are  steep  and 
crooked,  wide  and  clean,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  with 
truth  of  many  avenues  in  other  English  towns. 

Among  the  noted  places  of  the  old  town  is  the  Colston  School, 
where  Chatterton  was  for  a  short  time  a  scholar.  The  building 
is  an  antique  structure,  in  the  Elizabethan  style,  located  on  a 
back  street,  and  may  be  described  as  a  quaint  ''  house  with  seven 
gables."  The  founder  bequeathed  lands  and  tenements  for  the 
support  of  the  institution,  and  one  hundred  boys  are  educated, 
boarded,  and  clothed  there  for  seven  years,  after  which  time  they 
are  apprenticed  out  to  trades.  It  is  an  excellent  institution,  and 
cherished  by  the  inhabitants  as  a  noble  charity. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  city  speak  a  dialect  different  from  that  of 
the  north  or  east,  and  whether  educated  or  not  their  pronunciation 
of  certain  words  is  the  same.  I  was  forcibly  reminded  more  than 
once  of  the  negroes  of  the  Southeni  States  when  I  heard  persons 
say  "yer"  and  "gwain"  instead  of  "here'*  and  "going."  The 
same  peculiarities  exist  in  the  remote  districts  of  the  south-west, 
and  the  pronunciation  there  differs  in  every  particular  from  that  at 
the  north,  and  from  that  of  the  cockneys  who  mouth  every  word, 
and  put  the  o  where  the  a  should  be,  in  addition  to  the  known  habit 
they  have  of  calling  horses  orscs,  and  the  atmosphere  the  hatmo- 
sphere. 

The  educated  English  about  London  pretend  to  laugh  at  the 
"  nasal  drawl"  of  the  Yankees,  and  speak  of  it  as  a  national  pecu- 
liarity.    It  would  bo  well  if  they  were  to  look  at  home  before 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  299 

sneering  at  Jonathan  about  that.  They  will  find  as  much  to  ridi- 
cule in  Somerset  as  ever  they  will  in  the  United  States  if  they  go 
there  for  a  few  months.  The  nasal  drawl  is  outdone  by  the 
sniffling  twang  of  the  people  of  that  county  and  Devonshire, 
sections  of  England  where  puritanism  was  rampant  in  its  day, 
and  whence  the  Yankee  pronunciation  was  exported  to  the 
shores  of  New  England.  The  untravelled  cockney  who  visits 
America  is  shocked  at  our  speech,  and  pretends  not  to  understand 
us,  when,  if  he  were  to  go  into  Yorkshire,  Northumberland,  or 
Devonshire,  he  would  be  equally  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  the 
natives  of  those  sections  of  his  own  isle,  some  of  whom  use  words 
unintelligible  to  the  educated  man,  and  incomprehensible  to  the 
Londoner.  Almost  every  county  has  its  peculiar  dialect,  and  the 
native  of  each  is  generally  recognized  by  his  tongue.  Somerset 
and  Devon  have  the  sniffle  and  the  drawl,  and  some  of  the 
rustics  of  those  provinces  speak  through  the  nose  as  strongly  as 
the  rawest  Yankees  of  Vermont  or  Connecticut. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

BATH — ITS  BEAUTY — ABBEY  CHURCH — AN  INCIDENT. 

The  city  in  which  Beau  Nash  reigned  the  monarch  of  fashion 
is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  England,  and  at  the  same  time  one 
of  the  most  aristocratic.  Cleanliness  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  place, 
and  although  some  of  the  permanent  inhabitants  are  not  remark- 
ably free  from  dirt,  but  few  of  them  are  so  filthy  as  the  illustrious 
Prince  Bladud  was  when,  wallowing  in  the  mud  of  the  valley  in 
which  the  city  stands,  he  discovered  the  medicinal  properties  of 
the  springs  for  which  it  is  chiefly  celebrated.  Night  had  fairly 
closed  in  when  I  arrived  at  Bath,  and  as  the  darkness  was  intense, 
I  had  considerable  difficulty  in  ascertaining  the  geography  of  the 
town.  The  railway  station  is  not  immediately  in  the  thickly  set- 
tled section,  and  as  the  place  is  scattered  and  built  on  both  high 


300  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

and  low  land,  I  witnessed  a  singular  scene.  Brilliant  gas-lights 
glittered  on  the  surrounding  hills  like  dazzling  planets,  and  as 
they  were  far  above  mo,  I  was  at  a  loss  which  way  to  proceed, 
not  knowing  whether  the  principal  thoroughfare  lay  in  the  valley 
or  on  the  highland.  The  darkness  made  the  lights  doubly  bright, 
and  therefore  the  scene  they  presented,  scattered  on  hills  and  dis- 
persed through  the  valley,  was  extremely  strange.  I  soon  obtained 
lodgings,  a  thing  rarely  denied  me,  and  on  the  following  morn- 
ing commenced  my  rambles  in  and  about  Bath.  The  streets  are 
wide  and  well  paved,  the  houses  built  of  stone  and  generally 
imposing,  the  parks  large  and  beautifully  laid  out,  and  the  whole 
appearance  of  the  place  fashionable  and  aristocratic.  There  are 
several  fine  crescents  flanked  by  noble  edifices,  and  much  that  is 
really  imposing.  Many  of  the  streets  in  the  level  section  are 
straight  and  elegant,  and  those  that  ascend  the  hills  are  both 
picturesque  and  secluded.  There  are  several  large  public  build- 
ings of  note,  the  most  attractive  of  which  are  the  Abbey  Church 
and  Pumproom,  the  latter  being  embellished  with  a  full-length 
marble  statue  of  the  great  leader  of  fashionable  folly  in  other 
days.  Beau  Nash.  The  baths  and  springs  are  numerous,  and  much 
resorted  to  by  invalids;  in  fact,  the  city  is  always  well  attended 
by  the  feeble,  and  the  stranger  notices  those  in  large  numbers  on 
fine  days  taking  exercise  in  the  open  air  on  foot,  attended  by  serv- 
ants, or  being  drawn  about  the  parks  by  men  in  small  vehicles 
called  Bath-chairs,  in  shape  like  a  gig,  and  so  constructed  as  to  be 
readily  closed  up  by  glass  doors  in  case  of  rain  or  unpleasant  cold. 
They  are  of  great  service  to  those  who  are  too  weak  to  walk,  or 
endure  the  jar  of  a  carriage  drawn  by  horses,  and  although  an 
American  may  regard  them  at  first  sight  as  admirably  adapted  to 
the  idle  and  lazy,  ho  cannot  but  acknowledge  their  utility  in  cases 
of  sickness,  where  the  patient  is  too  weak  to  walk  or  ride,  and  yet 
sufficiently  strong  to  endure  the  passive  exercise  of  being  drawn 
slowly  over  a  smooth,  level  causeway  in  an  easy-going  carriago 
such  as  the  Bath-chairs  are. 

The  Abbey  Church  is  a  fine  large  edifice,  in  the  Gothic  style  of 
architecture,  and  rich  in  external  as  well  as  internal  omamenta ; 
not  the  least  singular  of  which  is  a  representation,  at  the  western 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AxMERICAN.  301 

end  of  the  edifice,  in  stone,  of  Jacob's  Dream,  in  which  the  per- 
sons descending  the  ladder  are  distinguished  from  those  ascending 
by  being  represented  in  the  act  of  coming  down  head  foremost. 
The  idea  of  illustrating  the  vision  thus,  in  sculpture,  is  original 
and  laughable  :  but  correct,  after  all ;  for  how  else  could  the  artist 
picture  the  descending  throng !  If  all  were  heads  up,  the 
observer  would  be  puzzled  to  know  which  set  was  on  the  ascent, 
or  which  journeying  earthward.  The  figures  looked  quite  ridicu- 
lous, and  caused  me  to  laugh  heartily.  Each  one  sticks  his  head 
over  the  heels  of  his  neighbor  in  the  advance,  as  if  fearful  of  being 
kicked  in  the  face  ;  or  anxious,  mud-turtle  like,  to  draw  his  cra- 
nium under  cover,  in  case  of  danger  becoming  imminent.  The 
authors  of  "  Kejected  Addresses"  talk  somewhere  about  "  sprawling 
griffins;"  but  I  never  fully  realized  their  meaning  until  I  saw 
the  figures  on  the  ladder  in  Jacob's  Dream  at  the  Abbey  Church 
of  Bath.     They  are  sprawling,  to  all  intents  and  purposes. 

The  building  is  situated  in  a  central  part  of  the  city,  and,  as  it 
is  not  inclosed  by  houses,  it  is  seen  to  considerable  advantage. 
The  interior  is  lofty  and  grand,  the  nave  and  transepts  fine,  and 
crowded  with  tombs  and  tablets,  among  which  is  the  monument 
of  Beau  Nash,  on  which  there  is  a  Latin  inscription  setting  forth 
the  virtues  of  the  fop  !  Of  the  tablets,  that  to  Quinn,  the  actor,  is 
really  fine,  the  medallion  head  of  the  wit  being  a  masterpiece.  It 
is  inscribed  with  a  florid  epitaph  by  Garrick.  There  are  several 
pieces  of  sculpture  by  Chantrey;  but  as  they  are  to  the  memory 
of  persons  whose  sole  merit  was  wealth  or  title,  they  shall  be 
nameless  here. 

The  Avon  flows  through  the  city,  but  it  is  so  contracted  that 
no  one,  in  the  least  acquainted  with  noble  rivers,  would  ever  call  it 
by  that  name.  It  is  navigable  for  small  vessels,  and,  like  nearly  all 
the  English  streams,  although  narrow,  is  deep.  To  the  south 
of  it  is  a  range  of  hills  which  commands  a  magnificent  panorama 
of  Bath  and  the  surrounding  country.  I  ascended  to  its  summit 
to  enjoy  the  prospect  it  presents,  and  was  repaid  for  my  toil. 
The  city  lies  deep  in  the  valley,  immediately  at  the  base  of  the 
highlands,  its  suburbs  stretching  away  to  the  north,  the  isolated 
mansions  dotting  the  distant  hills.  To  the  east  are  the  elevated- 
26 


302  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

grounds  upon  which  Prince  Bladud  is  reported  to  have  tended 
swine,  when  an  exile  from  his  father's  court  in  consequence  of 
being  afflicted  with  leprosy,  while  a  little  to  the  south  of  them  is 
a  valley  of  great  beauty,  with  a  secluded  village  nestling  in  its 
bosom,  whose  romantic  little  church,  ivy-crowned,  is  the  charm 
of  the  place  and  the  resort  of  the  sketcher  and  tourist.  Turning 
again  to  the  north,  the  eye  runs  over  the  gay  city,  resting  for  an 
instant  on  its  spires,  its  parks,  its  crescents,  and  its  sinuous  streets, 
and  follows  on  until  it  meets  a  tall,  ungainly,  tower-like  edifice, 
on  the  summit  of  Lansdowne  Hill,  erected  by  the  celebrated  author 
of  "  Vathek,"  William  Beckford,  during  his  residence  at  Bath,  for 
the  purpose  of  commanding  an  extended  prospect  of  the  adjacent 
country.  At  a  distance,  it  has  a  clumsy  appearance ;  but  when 
the  beholder  is  near,  it  presents  a  handsome,  bold  front.  Crom- 
well fought  one  of  his  most  desperate  and  successful  actions  on 
Lansdowne  Heights,  and  guides  pretend  to  point  out  to  the  stranger 
the  grounds  on  which  the  rival  armies  were  posted. 

The  western  view  is  intercepted  by  highlands  ;  but  on  a  clear 
day  the  city  of  Bristol  can  be  seen  from  the  summit  of  Beachy 
cliff,  the  site  of  observation.  The  Avon  winds  its  serpentine 
course  through  the  verdant  valley,  like  a  ribbon  of  silver,  and  is 
lost  at  last  in  the  blue  distance.  The  grand  Victoria  Park,  with 
its  lion-guarded  gateways  and  tall  granite  obelisk,  its  fine  walks, 
and  noble  trees,  and  pedestrian  throng,  gives  a  semi-rural,  semi- 
civic  aspect  to  the  west  of  the  city. 

During  my  stay,  government  opened  an  oflBce  there  from  which 
were  issued  grants  of  land  in  Australia  to  those  who  wished  to 
emigrate  to  that  distant  colony,  provided  they  fulfilled  the  require- 
ments of  the  law.  A  large  collection  of  people  was  assembled  in 
front  of  the  place  where  applications  were  received,  and  thero  was 
many  a  careworn  face  in  the  throng.  Some  of  the  people  were 
evidently  above  the  laboring  class,  and  had  seen  better  days;  but 
stern  necessity  had  decided  them  to  seek  a  home  beyond  the  land 
of  their  nativity,  and  with  timidity  and  blushing  faces  they  were 
seeking  the  only  available  means  by  which  they  could  be  con- 
veyed, voluntary  transports,  to  an  island  tens  of  thousands  of 
miles  away  in  the  far  Southern  Ocean.     From  the  countenances 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  803 

of  a  large  portion  of  those  who  composed  the  assemblage,  it  was 
evident  that  they  wished  to  go,  yet  feared  they  would  be  success- 
ful applicants.  Home,  although  wretched,  was  still  home  to 
them,  and  as  they  stood  waiting  to  learn  their  fate,  woe  was  heavy 
at  their  hearts,  because  they  dreaded  to  be  separated  from  old 
England — the  scene  alike  of  their  pleasures  and  misery. 

One  family  of  genteel  appearance,  consisting  of  parents,  a  son 
and  two  daughters,  interested  me  much.  The  father  went  into 
the  office  to  gain  some  information  relative  to  his  application  for 
the  grant,  while  the  others  remained  in  the  street.  During  his 
absence,  the  little  band  consulted  in  a  low  and  sorrowful  tone, 
turning  anxious  looks  occasionally  in  the  direction  they  expected 
their  protector  to  return.  I  could  not  understand  why  the  whole 
family  was  present,  unless  the  government  required  them  to  be, 
and  not  wishing  to  break  in  upon  the  sanctity  of  the  consultation, 
stood,  unobserved,  at  a  short  distance,  a  quiet  spectator  of  the 
scene.  The  father  at  last  made  his  appearance,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  countenance  in  which  hope  and  regret  were  predominant. 
As  he  approached  the  group,  there  was  silence  deep — a  silence  of 
expectation — and 

"  Each  held  Ms  breath  for  a  time  !" 

I  watched  their  faces  attentively.  The  surface  exhibited  clearly 
the  conflicting  feelings  within  the  breast,  but  no  questions  were 
asked.  The  parent  faltered  out,  "  I  have  it!"  when  they  clung  to 
each  other  and  wept  audibly.  The  aged  mother  trembled  with 
grief,  and  the  tears  coursed  silently  down  the  manly  faces  of  the 
father  and  son.  The  scene  was  aifecting,  but  scarcely  remarked 
by  others  besides  myself.  The  sorrows  of  the  family  were  their 
own,  and  the  gush  from  the  fountains  of  pent  up  suffering  gave 
relief.  They  slowly  left  the  spot  after  the  violence  of  the  out- 
burst had  subsided,  to  prepare  for  voluntary  transportation  from 
the  land  of  their  birthright,  because  they  could  no  longer  gain 
a  livelihood  in  it.  ^^  Merrie  England"  is  not  now  to  thousands  of 
her  children  what  she  was  in  bygone  times ;  in  the  days  when 
those  who  desired  work  could  have  it,  and  the  honest  man  wanted 
not  bread !     Competition  has  made  the  selfish  more  selfish,  and 


804  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  man  way; 

the  dependent  but  little  better  than  slaves;  and  therefore,  when 
adversity  overtakes  a  man,  and  he  loses  his  employment,  his  neces- 
sities oblige  him  to  seek  a  home  in  that  land  where  his  labor  will 
afford  him  a  living  and  comparative  independence. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

A  COACHMAN — INCIDENTS  ON  THE  ROAD — WELLS — ITS  PALACE 
AND  CATHEDRAL  —  GLASTONBURY  ABBEY— SEDGEMOOR  —  A 
SATURDAY  NIGHT  IN  AN  INN — MONMOUTH's  REBELUON. 

A  NOBLE  stage-coach,  drawn  by  four  fine  horses,  was  driven  up 
to  the  house  of  mine  host,  the  second  afternoon  after  my  arrival  in 
Bath,  and  as  I  had  engaged  a  seat  upon  it  for  Wells,  a  distance 
of  twenty  miles,  I  mounted  to  the  box,  but  was  not  there  more 
than  two  minutes,  when  an  impudent-looking  fellow  accosted  me 
with  an  obsequious  touch  of  his  hat,  and  hoped  that  I  would  re- 
member him  for  keeping  the  box  seat  for  me. 

*'Did  I  authorize  you  to  keep  it?" 

*'  No,  sir  !  but  we  al'ays  gets  something  from  gentlemen  what 
wants  it." 

"  You  have  no  claim  on  me.  I  did  not  employ  you,  and  there- 
fore have  nothing  to  pay.  If  you  are  a  beggar,  and  want  a  six- 
pence, I'll  give  you  one;  but  I  will  not  submit  to  extortion." 

I  soon  found  it  useless  to  resist  the  claim,  as  my  fellow-passen- 
gers began  to  regard  me  with  evident  disrespect,  taking  for  granted 
that  I  was  mean,  because  of  my  noncompliance  with  the  modest 
request  of  my  determined  dun,  who  stood  his  ground  manfully, 
fully  bent  upon  filching  from  me  at  least  one  sixpence. 

I  threw  tl>e  extortioner  the  coin,  and  thought  no  more  of  the 
incident.  But  not  so  my  companions.  They  did  not  think  favor- 
ably of  mo,  because  of  my  refusal  to  pay  the  demand  at  first,  and 
by  them  I  had  been  weighed  and  found  wanting,  as  their  looks 
clearly  testified.     We  commenced  our  journey  in  silence,  ascend- 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  305 

ing  tlie  bold  hill  to  the  south  of  the  city  without  exchanging  a 
word.  Taciturnity  is  characteristic  of  the  English  when  among 
strangers,  and  a  chilling  coldness  was  preserved  on  this  occasion 
for  some  miles.  The  first  hour  was  dull,  only  a  few  venturing  to 
exchange  words,  and  those  monosyllables.  None  addressed  me 
until  I  entered  into  conversation  with  the  driver,  who  was  a 
thorough  gentleman,  and  an  intelligent,  agreeable  man.  The 
road  was  hilly,  but  smooth  and  easy  of  travel,  and  as  we  were 
drawn  along  rapidly  by  our  spirited  animals,  some  romantic 
scenery  met  our  view.  I  never  met  a  more  accomplished  whip, 
nor  one  who  managed  horses  so  skilfully.  He  and  I  became  ex- 
tremely sociable ;  the  company  caught  the  feelings,  and  relaxed 
their  sternness,  exhibiting  considerable  surprise  at  what  they  were 
pleased  to  call  my  "  remarkable  knowledge"  of  the  country.  I 
knew  we  were  traversing  a  part  of  the  island  through  which  the 
famous  Roman  Fosse  lies,  and  asked  the  driver  to  point  out  that 
celebrated  way,  which  he  did.  I  could  distinctly  trace  it  for  con- 
siderable distance  ahead,  and  followed  in  its  course  for  several 
miles,  as  it  forms  a  part  of  the  turnpike  road  between  Bath  and 
Wells  at  this  period.  It  is  much  narrower  than  the  m.odern  high- 
ways of  England,  but  solid,  and  bears  evidence  of  the  skilful  and 
compact  manner  of  its  construction.  Two  thousand  years  have 
passed  since  the  Roman  conquerors  laid  it  out,  and  it  is  a  re- 
markable fact  that,  although  it  was  located  that  many  years 
ago,  and  at  a  time  when  the  geography  of  the  country  was  imper- 
fectly known,  it  is  the  direct  route  from  Lincolnshire  to  the  sea- 
coast  of  Devonshire.  It  is  crossed  by  the  Watling  Street  of  the 
Romans  near  Bath,  and  both  roads  are  public  highways  to  this 
day.  These  are  two  of  the  many  great  works  of  a  people  who 
were  all  powerful  in  Britain,  anterior  to  the  English,  and  speak 
volumes  for  the  antiquity  of  the  country,  as  well  as  the  intelli- 
gence of  those  who  constructed  the  roads. 

We  pursued  our  way  pleasantly  for  the  balance  of  the  journey, 
and,  although  some  of  the  company  maintained  silence,  T  enjoyed 
the  discourse  of  the  gentlemanly  driver  with  feelings  of  entire 
satisfaction.  No  object  of  note  on  the  route  escaped  his  eye,  and  he 
pointed  out  to  me,  long  before  we  reached  them,  the  blue  outline 

26* 


306  TUE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIOnWAY  j 

of  the  Metidip  Hills,  and  afterwards,  when  we  passed  over  them, 
directed  my  attention  to  the  villages  and  coal-pits  for  which  they 
are  famous.  The  afternoon  was  delightful ;  the  trees  clothed  in 
autumn's  livery,  the  fields  shorn  of  grain,  and  a  light  hazy  veil 
hanging  softly  over  the  earth.  There  was  a  dreamy  influence  in 
the  atmosphere  that  affected  all,  and  while  the  taciturn  ruminated, 
the  talkative  expressed  themselves  in  appropriate  language  without 
an  eflfort;  easy,  calmly,  and  to  the  point. 

We  passed  several  extensive  coal-mines,  and  met  numerous 
workmen ;  the  most  of  whom  were  grimy  with  the  dust  of  bitu- 
men, and  dull  and  besotted  in  appearance.  Carts  heavily  laden 
with  the  black  fuel,  rolled  by,  drawn  by  half  starved  donkeys, 
some  of  which  were  not  more  than  three  feet  high,  wretched, 
shrivelled  beasts,  not  fit  to  labor.  The  villages  were  anything 
but  cheerful,  and  the  colliers  whom  we  met  were  in  character 
with  the  uncomfortable  aspect  of  the  cottages.  In  all  my  rambles 
in  England,  and  I  was  in  nearly  every  county  in  it,  the  most 
ignorant  and  stultified  people  I  met  were  those  engaged  in  the 
collieries.  The  nature  of  their  employment  forbids  the  idea  of 
their  being  elevated  in  soul,  or  refined  in  manners,  and  they  plod 
through  this  earthly  existence  without  an  aspiration  to  be  released 
from  their  eternal  drudgery  and  debasing  calling ;  a  calling  of 
servitude  compared  with  which  the  hardest  labor  required  of  the 
swarthy  slave  is  play ;  and  then  they  receive  a  mere  pittance 
for  their  toil  in  a  sunless,  underground  cell,  where  the  light  of  day 
never  beams. 

Every  county  in  England  has  its  peculiarities.  In  Somereet- 
Bhiro,  the  farmers  remove  the  bristles  from  the  hogs  by  a  quick 
fire  of  shavings  or  straw,  and  the  hide  of  the  porker  is  left  black 
with  smoke,  and  sometimes  burnt  to  a  cri.sp.  It  was  the  season 
for  killing,  and  country  people  were  taking  bacon  to  market  ia 
the  condition  in  which  it  is  left  after  undergoing  the  process 
described. 

Another  custom,  worthy  of  remark,  is  the  way  certain  teamsters 
drag  the  wheels  of  their  carts,  to  which  two  donkeys  are  attached, 
when  descending  a  steep  hill.  When  at  the  edge  of  the  hill 
one  of  the  animals  is  put  to  the  rear  of  the  van,  and  as  it  moves 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  307 

down  the  poor  brute  braces  himself  on  all-fours,  and  thus  acts  as 
a  clog  to  the  wheels  and  prevents  a  too  rapid  descent.  The 
donkeys  are  well  aware  of  what  is  required  of  them,  and  perform 
their  duty  with  singular  dexterity. 

We  made  a  short  stay  at  Shepton  Mallett,  a  town  famous  for 
the  part  some  of  its  inhabitants  took  in  the  rebellion  of  the 
elegant  but  unfortunate  Duke  of  Monmouth.  The  main  street  is 
long,  narrow,  and  compactly  built — the  houses  are  old-fashioned 
— the  church  large  and  weatherworn,  and  the  market-cross,  which 
stands  in  a  space  near  the  centre  of  the  town,  a  fine  specimen  of 
that  kind  of  edifice,  being  octagonal  in  form,  with  arches  spring- 
ing from  square  pillars  and  a  shaft  rising  above  the  roof.  It  is  a 
fine  structure,  and  the  great  centre  of  excitement  on  market- 
days.  The  famous  Jefi'ries  held  a  court  at  Shepton  Mallett,  while 
making  his  "  bloody  tour"  of  the  west,  and  several  of  the  parti- 
cipants in  Monmouth's  ill-contrived  rebellion  perished  at  the 
town-cross  on  the  occasion  of  the  legal  murderer's  visit,  for  their 
attachment  to  the  cowardly  duke. 

Our  ride  to  Wells  after  leaving  Shepton  was  the  most  agreeable 
part  of  the  journey.  The  scenery  between  those  places  is  unsur- 
passed by  any  it  was  my  lot  to  behold  in  England.  The  road 
lay  along  the  edge  of  a  picturesque  hill;  the  Mendip  Hills  on  our 
right,  before  us  the  towers  of  the  cathedral,  and  the  quiet  city; 
and  away  in  the  distance  the  commanding  form  of  Tor  Hill  at 
Glastonbury,  with  the  square  tower  of  St.  Michael's  ruined 
Church  on  the  very  summit.  The  dim  twilight  of  an  autumnal 
day  settled  slowly  down,  and  mellowed  the  outlines  of  the  hills  to 
a  faint  mark  by  the  time  we  entered  the  little  city.  Our  road 
lay  along-side  the  old  cathedral,  and  we  soon  dashed  past  it 
through  one  of  the  ancient  gates  into  the  main  street  and  on  to* 
our  destined  inn.  I  was  directed  to  a  comfortable  hotel,  and,  as 
the  weather  was  keen  and  chilly,  found  my  way  to  the  parlor, 
kicked  my  boots  off  before  the  fire,  stirred  the  coals,  and  sat  down 
as  independent  as  a  lord.  A  good  supper  was  promptly  served, 
and  being  joined  by  a  gentleman  who  was  a  sociable  companion, 
I  passed  the  evening  in  pleasant  conversation  and  agreeable 
quarters. 


308  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHW AY  ; 

The  citj  of  Wells  is  clean,  neat,  and  like  a  burnished  gem 
when  contrasted  with  the  dingy  towns  of  the  north.  Clear 
gurgling  waters  flow  musically  along  its  gutters,  and  the  liquid 
is  so  pure  and  crystal  that  none  would  object  to  abate  his  thirst 
with  it.  The  streets  are  clean;  the  market-cross  chaste  and 
graceful,  there  being  a  fountain  of  "  living  water"  gushing  ever 
from  its  secret  well;  and  the  market-square  old  and  quaint — its 
sides  being  lined  with  houses  in  the  Elizabethan  style,  whose 
projecting  gables  and  oriel  windows  give  an  air  of  antiquity  to 
the  place.  Two  gates  with  buttresses  and  turrets  stand  at  the 
eastern  end  of  the  inclosure,  one  of  which  conducts  to  the  famous 
cathedral,  the  other  to  the  bishop's  palace. 

The  residence  of  the  present  prelate  is  a  modern  structure  of 
considerable  beauty,  within  the  ruins  of  the  dwelling  of  the 
ecclesiastical  functionaries  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  A  battle- 
mented  wall,  gray  with  age  and  covered  with  ivy,  incloses  both 
the  old  and  the  new  palace,  around  which  is  a  moat  about  thirty 
feet  wide,  filled  with  clear,  crystal,  running  water.  Towers 
ornament  the  angles  of  the  inclosure — and  a  stern  old  gateway 
flanked  with  projecting  bastions,  protected  by  a  drawbridge  raised 
by  massive  chains;  and  a  formidable-looking  portcullis  within  the 
arch  speaks  plainly  to  the  modern  visitor  of  the  days  of  old,  when 
pennons  floated  from  the  towers,  and  warrior-knights  with  armed 
attendants  asked  food  and  shelter  of  the  dwellers  within.  Seven 
acres  are  inclosed  by  the  walls,  nearly  all  of  which  ground  is  laid 
out  in  gardens  and  gay  parterres.  The  ruins  are  noble  in  their 
decay,  curtained  by  the  branches  of  trees  and  luxuriant  ivy.  A 
mound  runs  around  the  inner  side  of  the  extended  wall,  forming 
a  magnificent  promenade  along  the  frowning  battlements.  The 
'corner  towers  arc  tastefully  fitted  up  with  seats,  and  the  perennial, 
ruin-haunting  vine  clambers  in  gay  festoons  over  the  indented 
walla,  forming  rich  curtains  under  which  young  lovers  may  sit 
and  hear  the  waters  in  the  moat  gurgling  and  murmuring  along 
from  the  holy  well  of  St.  Andrew's.  The  chapel  is  the  greatest 
attraction  of  the  modern  palace,  and  really  superb.  A  consider- 
able portion  of  the  old  edifice  remains  in  partial  ruin ;  the  main 
hall,  in  which  the  last  abbot  of  Glastonbury  was  tried  in  1540  for 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  309 

resisting  the  king's  authority,  being  the  most  entire.  The  victim 
of  Henry's  power  was  hung,  drawn,  and  quartered  on  Tor  Hill 
immediately  after  his  conviction,  and  his  terrible  fate  tinges  with 
romance  the  hall  alluded  to. 

I  noticed  among  the  garden-trees  specimens  of  the  black  wal- 
nut, silver  maple,  tulip-poplar,  and  rich  magnolia  of  my  native 
land,  growing  in  close  proximity  to  a  thorn  from  Palestine,  said 
to  be  a  sprout  from  the  staff  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea.  The  story 
goes  that  the  apostle,  on  his  arrival  in  England,  rested  with  his 
followers  the  first  night  on  a  promontory  near  the  southern  coast 
of  the  island,  which  he  called  Weary-all-hill,  into  the  soil  of  which 
he  thrust  his  cane,  which  immediately  took  root,  and  continues 
to  put  forth  blossoms  ever  since  on  Christmas  day.  The  romance 
may  please  children,  and,  as  the  sprouts  of  the  fabulous  original 
still  bloom  in  December,  the  idle  tale  may  be  believed  by  the 
devout  and  misguided;  but  the  naturalist  will  smile  at  the  story; 
and  as  the  thorn  of  Palestine  is  a  hardy  plant,  and  the  climate 
of  Somerset  is  remarkably  mild  in  winter,  the  blossoming  is  easily 
accounted  for  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  unprejudiced  and  non- 
superstitious. 

The  splendid  cathedral  of  Wells  is  regarded  by  many  architects 
as  a  work  of  surpassing  elegance  and  beauty  of  finish,  and  is 
assuredly  grand.  The  interior  was  restored  in  1851,  and  no 
similar  ancient  edifice  in  England  will  compare  favorably  with  it 
at  present.  Every  corner  and  portion  of  the  beautiful  nave, 
choir,  and  lady-chapel  is  now  as  it  was  three  hundred  years  ago, 
so  far  as  appearance  is  concerned;  and  the  clear  stone,  foliated 
capitals,  splendid  groining  of  the  ceilings,  clustered  columns,  tri- 
forium,  decorated  stalls  of  the  prebendaries,  and  every  other  part 
of  the  interior  are  as  rich  and  bright  as  if  just  from  the  stone- 
cutter's hand.  I  have  seen  many  of  the  old  cathedrals ;  but  of 
all,  grand  and  imposing  though  they  are,  there  is  not  one — not 
even  that  majestic  monument  of  architectural  elegance,  York 
Minster — that  has  so  much  richness  about  it  as  Wells  Cathedral. 
York  is  more  impressive,  more  soaring,  and  awe-inspiring;  while 
that  of  Wells  is  more  ornate,  more  gorgeous,  more  elaborate. 
When  standing  at  the  west  end  of  the  nave,  and  looking  east,  the 
whole  beauty  of  the  magnificent  interior  bursts  upon  the  delighted 


810  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niJGHWAY  ; 

gaze.  The  long  perspective,  the  lofty  roof,  the  bold  triforium, 
the  string  courses. and  rich  moulding,  the  carvings  and  foliated 
ornaments,  the  groining  and  the  bosses,  the  mellowed  light  that 
hallows  the  fane — all  give  the  edifice  an  appearance  of  grandeur 
and  solemnity  seldom  seen  in  similar  structures.  The  columns 
are  clustered,  the  capitals  of  various  designs — there  being  birds, 
human  faces,  animals,  and  foliage  among  the  ornaments  of  each 
bell,  and  the  corbels  which  support  the  vaulting-shafts  that  sus- 
tain the  nave.  Under  the  central  tower  are  buttresses  in  the 
form  of  inverted  arches  erected  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening 
the  massive  pile,  and  akhough  they  mar,  to  a  certain  extent,  the 
bold  spring  of  the  lofty  curve,  still  they  are  beautiful  and  singular. 
The  lady-chapel  is  sublimely  ornamented  and  gorgeous  in  the  ex- 
treme. The  fretted  roof  is  emblazoned  with  gold,  scarlet,  and 
azure ;  the  floor  inlaid  with  encaustic  tiles ;  the  windows  glazed 
with  glass  of  the  most  brilliant  hue  and  color;  and  the  vault  sup- 
ported by  clustered  shafts  and  lancet  arches.  Stand  where  you 
may  to  gaze,  the  eye  is  feasted  with  grandeur,  and  the  soul  refined 
by  beauty.  Nor  is  the  lady-chapel  alone  in  its  elegance.  The 
choir  is  equally  gorgeous,  and  the  chapter-house  is  but  little  less 
sublime  than  its  sister  departments.  A  single,  slender  shaft 
springs  from  the  centre,  and  spreads  in  the  most  delicate  fan 
tracery  at  the  roof,  the  ribbings  of  which  radiate  from  the  main 
column,  and  vault  to  the  corresponding  mouldings  which  rise  from 
the  side  walls.  The  approach  to  this  part  of  the  cathedral  is  by 
a  grand  geometrical  staircase,  the  angles  of  which  please  the  be- 
holder. The  crypt  contains  a  few  coffins  of  Norman  knights,  and 
several  relics  of  the  early  bishops  of  Wells;  and  at  the  south  side 
of  the  vestibule,  is  the  shrine  of  a  distinguished  Catholic  digni- 
tary of  the  olden  time.  The  modern  monuments  are  few,  and 
those  are  in  the  main  building,  the  cloisters  being  reserved  for 
burial-places,  a  wise  use  of  them,  as  they  arc  better  adapted  to  the 
purpose  than  the  nave  or  body  of  a  cathedral  in  which  service  is 
performed.  The  finest  piece  of  sculpture  is  in  the  chapel,  near 
the  choir.  It  is  one  of  Chantrey's  best  works,  and  merits  its  posi- 
tion in  one  of  the  great  temples  of  the  past.  I  often  stood, 
in  admiration,  before  the  splendid  productions  of  the  chisel  which 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  311 

adorn  the  shrines  of  England;  and  frequently,  at  such  times,  a 
drawling,  simpering  parson,  who  had  received  divinity  into  his 
form  from  the  finger-ends  of  a  bishop,  commenced  chanting,  in 
dull,  long-drawn  strains,  the  service  of  the  church;  and  while 
thus  gazing,  musing,  and  hearing,  I  thought  what  fool  can  be- 
lieve such  dolts  as  he  inspired,  because  a  mortal,  assuming  holi- 
ness, has  declared  him  so  by  the  laying  on  of  hands,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  condemn  the  ancient  Greeks,  wondering  why  they  con- 
sidered the  splendid  figures,  from  the  hand  of  Phidias,  the  temples 
of  Gods !  Who  would  not  sooner  believe  the  glorious  form  of  the 
Apollo  Belvidere  the  dwelling  of  a  divinity,  than  the  decaying 
body  of  a  mortal ! 

Among  the  tombs  in  the  cloisters,  is  that  of  the  wife  of  Richard 
Brinsley  Sheridan.  It  is  placed  in  the  east  wall  of  the  eastern 
avenue,  and  contains  a  long  inscription  to  her  memory.  The 
reader  will  recollect  that  she  was  a  Miss  Linley,  and  an  actress  of 
some  celebrity.  From  the  record,  I  judge  she  was  a  native,  or  at 
least  a  resident  of  Wells,  as  the  grave  in  which  she  rests  is  the 
same  in  which  repose  the  remains  of  her  mother  and  other  rela- 
tives. 

There  are  several  curious  ornaments  on  the  capitals  of  the  col- 
umns, in  the  south  transept,  not  the  least  amusing  of  which  is  a 
series  of  groups  representing  two  boys  stealing  apples,  their  ar- 
rest by  two  men,  condemnation  by  a  magistrate,  and  punishment. 
On  others  are  a  woman  with  the  toothache — a  man  whistling  with 
might  and  main — a  cobbler  repairing  shoes,  and  a  boy  extracting 
a  thorn  from  his  foot.  It  is  these  things,  so  admirably  sculptured, 
and  the  sharp,  foliated  carvings  and  mouldings  of  the  clustered 
columns,  and  other  sections  of  Wells  Cathedral,  that  make  it  so 
grand  and  imposing,  now  that  it  is  thoroughly  restored.  There  is 
a  wonderful  clock  in  the  wall  of  the  northern  transept.  It  was 
made  by  a  monk,  at  Glastonbury  Abbey,  in  1322,  and  removed 
to  its  present  location  at  the  dissolution  of  that  monastery.  It  is 
a  very  ingenious  piece  of  mechanism,  formed  of  brass  and  iron — 
proclaims  the  hours,  strikes  the  quarters,  and  gives  the  age  of  the 
moon.  Above  the  dial-plate,  in  the  transept  (for  there  are  two 
dials,  one  outside  the  building,  and  one  in),  is  a  platform,  around 


312  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

which  figures  of  mounted  knights  dash  at  a  furious  rate  when  set 
in  motion,  with  lances  poised  at  each  other.  Their  movements 
convey  a  tolerable  idea  of  an  ancient  tournament.  There  is  a  male 
figure  connected  with  the  clock,  which  strikes  a  bell  with  its  heels 
every  fifteen  minutes;  while,  on  the  external  side  of  the  same 
wall,  and  moved  by  the  same  machinery,  are  two  mailed  knights 
on  foot,  armed  with  swords  and  shields,  who  strike  the  fractions 
of  the  hour  with  their  swords  on  each  other's  buckler.  The  ex- 
terior of  the  cathedral  is  quite  as  ornate  as  the  interior;  but  its 
dingy  color,  and  in  some  cases  saintless  niches,  do  not  compare 
with  the  internal  portions.  The  front  buttresses  are  embellished 
with  numerous  figures  of  kings,  knights  in  armor,  saints,  apostles, 
abbesses,  and  bishops,  some  of  which  are  nine  feet  high,  and 
tolerably  perfect.  The  drapery  is  very  fine,  and  exhibits  great 
skill  in  the  sculptor.  The  edifice  stands  in  an  open  space,  and  is 
seen  to  the  greatest  advantage  from  the  west,  or  from  the  adjacent 
hills,  from  which  a  fine  panorama  is  presented. 

A  visit  to  Glastonbury  is  considered  a  duty  by  the  temporary 
sojourner  at  Wells,  and  as  the  distance  is  but  six  miles,  I  walked 
through  the  valley  to  the  town  and  abbey  of  that  name.  The 
lands  between  the  two  places  are  low  and  swampy,  but  carefully 
drained  and  cultivated;  large  quantities  of  apples  are  raised,  and 
considerable  cider  made.  The  rustic  population  speak  a  language 
diflFerent  from  that  of  the  same  class  at  the  north,  and  although 
their  pronunciation  is  not  so  broad,  still  it  is  almost  as  hard  to 
comprehend.  Glastonbury  is  small,  but  interesting  to  the  Christ- 
ian if  the  traditions  connected  with  it  arc  true.  It  is  the  reputed 
landing-place  in  Britain  of  one  of  the  Saviour's  apostles,  Joseph 
of  Arimathea,  and  the  spot  on  which  he  planted  the  first  Christian 
church  founded  in  England,  and  whence  the  light  of  Christianity 
spread  over  the  island.  The  ruins  of  the  abbey  are  meagre,  but 
there  is  sufficient  left  to  impress  the  beholder  with  the  extent  of 
the  building  when  entire.  The  nave  is  the  most  perfect  part 
remaining,  but  time  has  dealt  harshly  with  it,  and  only  one  side 
wall  remains.  The  style  of  architecture  is  Norman,  and  the 
string  courses,  hood  moulding  of  the  doors  and  windows  are  in 
excellent  preservation.     Between  the  nave  and  choir  are  several 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  313 

steps  whicli  mark  the  division  of  the  two  sections.  There  is  a 
chapel  named  after  the  apostle,  within  the  crypt  of  which  is  a  well 
of  pure  water  called  holy.  A  thorn-tree  grows  in  the  yard  or 
garden,  and  as  it  is  a  sprout  from  the  staff  of  Joseph,  it  is  pre- 
served with  great  care.  The  abbey  was  once  the  residence  of  St. 
Patrick,  and  tradition  says  that  he  was  the  presiding  ofl&cer  at  one 
time.  The  old  hostelries  where  pilgrims  took  up  their  abode 
when  at  Griastonbury  still  exist  as  taverns  or  inns,  and  the  wine 
vaults  and  kitchens  prove  that  the  faithful  had  an  eye  to  the 
comforts  of  the  body  as  well  as  the  salvation  of  the  soul.  The 
Church  of  St.  Benedict  is  said  to  be  the  oldest  place  of  Christian 
worship  now  in  England,  having  been  erected  shortly  after  the 
founding  of  the  abbey.  It  has  undergone  frequent  repairs,  and 
retains  but  little  of  its  original  form  or  the  materials  first  used  in 
its  construction.  The  remains  of  St,  Michael's  Church,  on  the  Tor 
Hill,  are  conspicuous  for  miles  around.  The  tower  of  the  building 
is  bold  and  strong,  and  can  be  seen  from  nearly  every  part  of 
Somersetshire  in  clear  weather.  The  original  church  is  repre- 
sented to  have  been  founded  by  the  apostle  named,  but  the  pre- 
sent structure  bears  evident  marks  of  an  architecture  unknown 
before  the  twelfth  century.  The  last  abbot  of  Glastonbury  and  two 
monks  were  hung  on  the  hill  along-side  of  the  sacred  ruin  in  1540, 
and  their  bodies  drawn  and  quartered  as  a  terror  to  others  of  the 
rosary  and  cowl.  The  head  of  the  first  named  was  placed  on  a 
pole  in  the  tower,  and  his  body  hung  in  four  equal  parts  on  the 
walls  of  as  many  neighboring  towns. 

The  hill  takes  in  a  fine  view  extending  westward  to  the  sea, 
and  northward  to  the  Mendip  range  and  the  city  of  Wells.  The 
gloomy  field  of  Sedgemoor  is  in  full  view,  and  its  dark  surface  is 
a  fit  pall  for  the  dead  who  slumber  in  its  bosom.  The  last  actual 
battle  on  English  ground  was  fought  there,  and  there  many  a 
brave  follower  of  the  cowardly  and  courtly  Duke  of  Monmouth 
found  a  grave.  The  land  is  intersected  now  by  farms  and  roads, 
but  it  still  retains  some  of  the  peculiarities  from  which  it  is  not 
inaptly  named. 

The  principal  towns  in  Somersetshire  are  noted  for  the  trials 
held  in  them  by  the  brutal  Jeffries  during  his  murderous  judicial 
27 


314  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  UIGHWAY  ; 

tour  following  the  defeat  at  Sedgeraoor.  Wells  was  one  of  his 
places  of  sojourn,  and  a  gentleman,  resident  in  the  city,  pointed 
out  to  me  the  site  of  the  court-house  in  which  the  wretch  perpe- 
trated much  of  his  villany,  and,  in  the  name  of  justice,  com- 
mitted his  atrocious  outrages  against  the  blindly  infatuated  dupes 
of  the  favorite  son  of  Charles  the  Second.  The  older  rustic 
families  of  the  county  cherish  to  this  period  a  hatred  for  the  name 
of  the  legal  hero,  and  shower  down  on  his  crime-stained  soul 
anathemas  for  the  persecutions  he  waged  against  their  unfortunate 
ancestors. 

A  traveller  finds  much  amusement  at  times  in  the  mixed  com- 
pany which  congregates  around  the  bright  fire  in  the  parlor  of  an 
English  inn ;  and  no  place  is  better  calculated  for  observation  of 
English  character  than  one  of  those  rooms  when  occupied  by  a 
fair  amount  of  company.  I  spent  a  pleasant  Saturday  evening  at 
Wells  with  the  gentlemen  assembled  in  the  social  hall  of  mine 
host,  and  among  other  subjects  our  conversation  turned  upon 
America.  The  portly,  ruddy-faced  islanders  sipped  their  liquor 
with  cheerfulness,  and  grew  entertaining  as  the  night  advanced 
and  the  ale  enlivened.  Some  of  those  present  were  anxious  to 
know  whether  the  servants  in  the  United  States  really  do  eat  at 
the  same  table  and  at  the  same  time  with  their  employers  ?  Is 
New  York  as  large  as  London?  How  soon  will  you  abolish 
slavery,  and  how  do  you  manage  without  a  state  church  ?  Do 
the  people  speak  English,  and  how  do  they  get  well  without  doc- 
tors when  they  live  so  far  apart  as  many  of  them  do  at  the  west  ? 

And  then  it  was  laughable  to  hear  their  opinions  respecting 
our  morals  and  iutelligenco.  I  chuckled  at  their  nonsense  and 
ignorance  frequently.  Some  thought  us  as  bad  as  the  savages  of 
the  forest,  and  quite  as  rude  and  illiterate.  Their  ideas  of  the 
country  were  intimately  connected  with  steamboat  explosions, 
Bowie  knives,  and  Colt's  revolvers.  They  seemed  to  think  that 
every  man  of  us  goes  armed,  and  ready,  on  the  instant,  to  commit 
murder.  When  1  gave  them  some  information  respecting  our 
largo  cities,  they  looked  unbelievingly  at  mc,  and  evidently 
doubted  my  words.  I  was  a  rara  avts  among  them,  and  regarded 
with  curiosity,  for  some  of  them  never  saw  a  live  Yankee  before 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  315 

they  saw  me,  and  viewed  the  animal  with  wonder.  I  found  them 
a  gentlemanly  set  of  men,  however,  and  could  not  have  passed  my 
time  more  to  my  satisfaction  than  in  their  company.  The  room 
was  filled  with  a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  each  person  had  either  a 
glass  of  gin  and  hot  water,  or  ale,  and  long  pipe,  supplied  with 
adulterated  tobacco.  Each  paid  for  what  he  drank,  and  none  con- 
sidered it  a  mark  of  disrespect  to  a  friend,  or  meanness  in  himself, 
to  call  for  a  pipe,  or  liquor,  and  not  invite  others  to  join  him,  it 
being  the  custom  of  the  country  for  each  individual  to  pay  for  his 
own  drink.  To  me  there  was  an  appearance  of  sordidness  in  the 
habit  of  pushing  out  two  or  three  pennies  for  a  glass  of  gin  far  from 
creditable  or  worthy  of  imitation.  And  drinking  hot  water  in 
their  liquor  did  not  strike  me  as  in  character  with  the  English 
rule  of  avoiding  mixed  food  !  But  certain  people  are  over-par- 
ticular in  some  things,  and  not  particular  enough  in  others,  and 
John  Bull  is  eminently  so.  He  faints  at  the  idea  of  eating  fried 
ham,  and  yet  swallows  cheese  and  ale  together  before  going  to 
bed,  and  drinks  sweetened  gin  and  hot  water  with  commendable 
national  vanity,  swearing  by  his  troth  there's  naught  so  healthful. 
My  companions  of  the  evening  were  of  different  professions, 
including  lawyers,  commercial  travellers,  tradesmen,  and  farmers, 
most  of  whom  were  tolerably  informed  respecting  their  own  county, 
but  not  so  of  other  parts  of  England.  The  farmers — and  when  I 
speak  of  them  I  make  no  allusion  whatever  to  the  rustics,  but 
confine  myself  entirely  to  what  are  known  as  gentlemen  farmers, 
or  renters  of  large  tracts  of  land,  which  they  cultivate  by  means 
of  the  peasantry — although  gentlemen  in  dress,  are  the  most 
ignorant,  stupid  set,  who  have  pretensions  to  respectability  and 
position,  of  any  men  I  met  in  England;  and  of  the  many  whom 
I  came  in  contact  with,  there  was  but  one  who  was  a  well-informed 
man,  and  he  was  originally  a  cutler  at  Shefiield.  The  balance 
were  by  no  means  refined.  They  were  mostly  hospitable,  but 
not  cultivated. 


3 1 G  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIQHWAT  ; 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

FUN  AND  FOaS — SALISBURY  AND   ITS   CATHEDRAL — A  WALK  TO 
STONEHENGE  OVER  SALISBURY  PLAIN. 

Reader,  have  you  ever  been  in  an  English  fog?  a  real  un- 
adulterated penetrator,  that  chills  a  man  to  the  heart's  core  if  he 
happens  to  be  exposed  to  it  for  half  an  hour  ?  If  jcu  have  not, 
then  may  you  never  be  obliged  to  endure  a  ride  of  twenty- odd 
miles  through  one  so  dense  as  to  prevent  your  seeing  ten  feet 
ahead  of  the  four  horses  attached  to  the  stage-coach.  To  look  at 
the  bleared  sun  through  the  misty  veil,  from  a  cheerful  parlor 
"window,  does  very  well,  and  you  may  derive  an  inward  delight  in 
trying  to  trace  from  such  a  point  of  sight  the  dim  outline  of  the 
houses  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  or  the  phantom-like 
figures  of  the  almost  invisible  creatures  who  pass  before  you ;  but 
to  grope  your  way,  or  ride  through,  it  is  enduring,  and  not  alone 
seeing.  The  walk  is  not  so  bad  as  the  ride,  for  in  that  you  navi- 
gate yourself,  and  roll  along  like  a  ship  in  a  veil  of  mist  at  sea, 
and  when  a  fellow-mortal  heaves  in  sight,  and  you  trace  his  out- 
line through  the  vapor,  you  shape  your  course  to  steer  clear  of 
him,  and  in  nautical  phrase  "  give  him  a  wide  berth."  You  see 
a  gas-light  occasionally  to  cheer  you,  its  dull  rays  glimmering  like 
a  beacon  on  a  dreary  cliff  to  guide  the  lonely  mariner,  and  if  you 
choose  you  can  come  to  anchor  along-side  a  shop- window,  or  the 
door  of  a  chop-house,  where  you  can  recruit  your  energies,  make 
observations,  get  your  latitude  and  longitude,  and  renew  your 
journey  with  a  prospect  of  completing  it  satisfactorily.  But  the 
ride  is  a  different  thing;  muffled  up  on  a  stage-coach  and  en- 
veloped by  fog,  you  soon  become  chilled  and  cheerless.  You  look 
at  your  neighbors,  and  see  their  hair  and  wlii>kers  white  with  ac- 
cumulating frost ;  each  one  is  as  cold  and  comfortless  as  yourself, 
and  the  keen  air  cuts  3'our  face  with  its  damp  breath  as  you  move 


OR,  WANDERINGS  Or  AN  AMERICAN.  317 

through  it.  The  houses  are  moving  phantoms;  there's  no  sky; 
no  road ;  no  sun;  no  fence  ;  no  houses;  no  fields;  nothing  but 
fog,  thick  and  impenetrable.  When  you  come  to  a  hill,  the  driver 
tells  you  to  hold  on  and  not  be  alarmed,  for  the  stage  may  escape 
being  upset  by  a  special  Providence,  but  the  chances  are  in  favor 
of  going  over.  You  are  going;  but  where  to  is  the  question.  To 
upset?  Yes,  just  as  likely  as  not.  But  you  escape  that,  and 
thump  your  feet  on  the  footboard  to  get  them  warm,  and  put 
your  blood  in  circulation,  until  you  are  tired ;  and  then  you  pro- 
bably will  try  to  see  the  beauties  of  the  charming  country  through 
which  you  are  passing  so  agreeably.  Yes  !  magnificent  landscape 
it  is,  too!  All  fog-banks;  all  so  beautifully  misty;  so  admirably 
obscured ;  so  dreamy ;  so  like  Melville  Island,  Spitzbergen,  or 
some  other  equally  splendid  northern  land  of  fairies  and  fogs  ! 
You  enjoy  it  so,  and,  if  blest  with  a  happy  imagination,  you  can 
build  such  airy  castles,  and  have  so  much  material  to  form  them 
of,  all  ready  to  your  mind.  The  cottages,  the  parks,  the  man- 
sions are  all  before  you,  and  all  totally  beyond  your  vision,  but 
still  before  you ;  and  decorate  them  to  your  own  satisfaction,  in 
such  colors  as  your  fancy  may  supply.  But  while  you  are  thinking 
of  these  things,  something  goes  wrong,  and  a  reality  surely  enough 
rouses  you  to  cold  matter-of-fact  things.  What 's  up  now  ?  0, 
only  run  into  the  fence ;  soon  all  will  be  right.  You  don't  like 
the  idea  of  backing  out  while  on  the  coach,  and  descend  until  the 
horses  are  extricated.  They  are  speedily  put  into  the  road ;  you 
mount  again,  and  start,  but  do  not  get  far  on  your  journey  before 
the  driver  "  believes  that  the  horses  have  been  turned  completely 
round,  and  we  are  going  back  again.''  Here's  a  pretty  mess, 
indeed.  Don't  know  where  you  are.  The  whip  swears ;  the  pas- 
sengers don^t  pray;  but  the  stage  does  stand  still,  and  what's  to 
be  done  ?  comes  from  every  mouth.  Go  back  and  see  whether 
the  coach  really  was  turned ;  you  can  tell  by  the  marks  of  the 
wheels  in  the  road.  Away  goes  the  driver,  and  with  him  a  pas- 
senger, to  learn  the  truth.  They  soon  return  out  of  breath,  de- 
clare we  are  wrong,  turn  the  horses,  and  pursue  the  journey. 
After  considerable  trouble,  a  good  deal  of  grumbling,  and  a  tho- 
rough chilling,  you  at  last  reach  your  destination,  fully  satisfied 

27* 


318 

with  your  ride  in  the  fog,  and  pretty  sure  you  won't  readily  forget 
it.  My  return  trip  from  Wells  to  Bath  was  nearly  as  above 
described,  and  when  I  reached  the  city  of  warm  springs,  I  was 
shaking  like  an  ague  patient.  A  good  fire  soon  made  me  com- 
fortable, and  I  once  more  mounted  on  the  top  of  a  stage-coach, 
but  not  for  Wells.  The  sun  had  by  this  time  conquered  the  fog ; 
the  landscape  was  gay,  and  my  companions  good  fellows.  There 
were  five  of  us,  with  the  driver ;  and  we  were  as  merry  a  set  of 
wanderers  as  ever  sailed  over  the  sea,  or  climbed  a  high  hill.  One 
was  an  Englishman,  who  had  been  in  Russia ;  another  a  Scottish 
gentleman,  connected  with  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company,  who 
had  been  wrecked  in  the  Indian  Ocean,  crossed  the  deserts  of 
Arabia,  stood  on  the  pyramid  of  Cheops,  and  traversed  the 
mighty  Ganges ;  the  other  had  been  in  Rome  and  Venice ;  and  I 
could  tell  of  the  Mississippi,  Niagara  Falls,  the  great  lakes,  and 
the  boundless  prairies  of  the  west.  We  made  a  glorious  com- 
pany, and  right  merrily  did  the  hours  and  miles  go  past  together 
as  we  dashed  over  Salisbury  Plain  and  on  to  the  city  of  New 
Sarum. 

Our  ride,  after  leaving  Bath,  was  through  a  gi'catly  diversified 
country,  and  along  a  most  beautiful  little  valley,  through  which 
wound  two  canals  and  a  small,  transparent  stream.  As  we  pro- 
gressed further  to  the  south,  the  country  became  level  and  chalky, 
chalk  being  the  main  geological  feature  of  the  famous  Salisbury 
Plain.  The  villages  on  the  route  were  small,  but  clean  j  and  the 
town  of  Warminster,  where  we  made  an  hour's  stay,  presented 
great  activity  and  bustle.  It  was  a  fair  day,  and  the  market- 
space  was  filled  with  rustic  humanity  and  Wiltshire  cheese.  The 
usual  amusements  attendant  upon  a  country  fair  in  England  were 
to  be  found  in  the  town,  and  every  species  of  buffoonery  was  going 
forward,  from  Punchaud- Judy  shows  to  negro  sercnaders ;  can- 
vas tents  were  numerous,  and  men  stood  at  the  entrance  to  each, 
proclaiming,  in  loud  voices,  the  merits  of  the  respective  exhibi- 
tions. One  establishment  contained  wax  figures  of  the  royal 
family,  and  the  walking  and  talking  advertisement  was  trying  to 
persuade  the  public  to  go  in  and  see  "  'Er  Majesty  and  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  for  sixpence."     Another  was  an  itinerant  circus,  and 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  819 

the  clown,  with  his  deathly  pallid  face,  stood  on  a  raised  platform 
outside  the  doors,  pleading  to  the  crowd  to  patronize  the  wonder- 
ful performances  within.  One  was  a  theatre,  one  a  menagerie, 
and  one  the  dwelling  of  a  seer,  where  "  young  ladies  were  shown 
the  faces  of  their  future  husbands."  Nor  were  these  all.  There 
were  booths  for  the  sale  of  every  description  of  trumpery  wares, 
and  stands  from  which  auctioneers  were  disposing  of  their  goods. 
Two  of  the  sons  of  the  hammer  amused  me  much.  They  both 
dealt  in  clothes,  and  as  they  were  on  opposite  sides  of  the  street, 
facing  each  other,  they  entertained  the  bystanders  with  a  choice  se- 
lection of  doubtful  compliments  to  themselves,  and  extravagant 
stories  respecting  the  articles  they  had  for  sale.  '^  Ere 's  a  splendid 
waistcoat ;  cost  me  six  shillings ;  sell  it  for  eighteen  pence  j  fit 
for  Prince  Halbert's  wear;  let  me  show  you  how  it  will  fit;  made 
in  the  best  style ;  excellent  goods ;  I'll  take  one  shilling — one 
shilling  only;  five  goold  buttons,  and  all  for  one  shilling;  buy  it 
for  a  wedding-vest,  young  man — I  know  you'll  marry  that  lass 
soon ;"  and  he  turned  his  head  towards  a  silly  clown,  near  by,  who 
was  standing  along-side  a  rosy-faced,  coarse-looking  country  girl. 
The  salesman  threw  his  own  coat  and  vest  off,  put  on  the  one  he 
had  to  sell,  and  talked  like  an  exhorting  parson.  The  fellow  on 
the  other  side  of  the  street  was  not  one  whit  behind  his  antagonist, 
and  they  soon  fell  abusing  each  other  roundly.  "  The  buttons  ts 
brass;  don't  buy  that  thing;  'ere's  yer  waistcoat,  young  man; 
this  'ere's  yer  wedding  waistcoat ;  only  nine  pence ;"  and  they 
almost  frightened  the  clown  out  of  his  senses,  with  their  appeals 
to  buy.  The  maiden's  face  was  like  a  full  moon,  and  the  poor 
girl  did  not  know  which  way  to  look.  Her  "  sweetheart"  was 
dumfounded,  and  wondered  how  they  found  out  he  was  about  to 
be  married.  The  mob  laughed  and  shouted;  the  auctioneers 
abused  each  other  more  and  more  ;  the  rustics  were  ready  to  cry, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  confusion,  the  band  of  one  of  the  exhibi- 
tions— a  drum,  cymbal,  and  fife — broke  forth  with  its  thunders, 
and  caused  me  to  think  "  chaos  had  come  again."  My  compa- 
nions and  self  roared  with  laughter  at  the  scene ;  and  after  look- 
ing at  the  mounds  of  cheese,  the  rosy-faced  maidens,  the  motley 
crowd,  and  the  old  town,  we  ascended  to  our  seats  on  the  stage. 


320  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

and  pursued  our  way.  The  country  now  became  level ;  the  earth 
was  white,  and  flocks  of  sheep,  attended  by  shepherds,  cropped  the 
scanty  herbage  of  the  plain.  We  stopped  a  few  minutes  at  the 
town  of  Wilton,  famous  for  its  rich  carpets,  gorgeous  church,  and 
for  being  the  seat  of  the  Karls  of  Pembroke,  where  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  wrote  his  "  Arcadia;"  and  as  the  sunlight  faded  out  and  the 
stars  began  to  twinkle  in  the  sky,  we  arrived  at  Salisbury,  and 
passing  its  brave  old  cathedral,  moved  on  to  our  hotel,  where  I 
parted  with  my  pleasant  companions,  they  going  to  Southampton, 
and  I  remaining  in  New  Sarum. 

The  stranger  who  visits  cathedral  towns  must  have  his  atten- 
tion occupied  chiefly  in  the  inspection  of  the  noble  edifices  for 
which  they  are  famous;  and,  as  nearly  all  these  buildings  are 
grand  and  beautiful  to  behold,  he  finds  in  each  and  every  one 
something  to  admire  peculiar  to  itself.  They  are  differently  con- 
structed, differently  ornamented,  differently  located,  and  however 
much  frequent  allusion  to  them  may  annoy  the  reader,  the  be- 
holder seldom  tires  of  their  many  places  of  interest  and  splendor, 
aside  from  their  architectural  merits.  They  are  mostly  the  burial- 
places  of  the  distinguished  and  remarkable,  and  abound  in  monu- 
ments, ancient  and  modern,  some  of  which  are  triumphs  of  art. 
It  is  quite  probable  that  the  cathedrals  of  England  contain  more 
masterpieces  of  the  chisel  than  the  public  galleries  of  the  land; 
and  the  student  of  sculptur^  will  find  in  these  noble  structures  the 
finest  productions  of  Roubiliac,  Chantrey,  Bacon,  Bailey,  and 
others  equally  distinguished,  and  works  of  elegance  and  perfection 
unknown  outside  the  transepts  and  aisles  in  which  they  are  placed. 
Not  only  cathedrals,  but  vilhige  and  hamlet  churches  boast  splendid 
statuary;  and  the  marble  figures  in  those  places  oftener  contribute 
to  elevate  and  refine  the  soul  than  the  rounded  periods  and  classic 
compositions  of  the  clergymen  who  oflioiate  in  them.  The  cathe- 
dral of  Salisbury  contains  some  fine  ancient  monuments  as  well 
as  modern,  the  most  remarkable  being  those  of  knights  and 
warriors,  the  greater  number  of  which  are  in  the  nave.  There  arc 
figures  of  crusaders,  in  excellent  preservation,  among  which  is  one 
to  the  memory  of  a  warrior  who  fell  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  was 
buried  at  Acre ;  and  a  highly  ornamented  altar-tomb  of  wood, 


I 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  321 

supporting  a  stone  effigy  of  the   Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  the  son  of 
Fair  Rosamond  and  Henry  the  Second,  who  died  in  1226  ;  and 
in  stern  repose,  on  another  tomb,  in  the  same  section  of  the  build- 
ing, lies  the  full-length  figure  of  an  armed  knight  who  was  stand- 
ard-bearer at  Bosworth  field.     There  are  two  marble  skeletons, 
over  as  many  tombs,  each  of  which  was  erected  to  the  memory  of 
a  bishop,  who,  in  endeavoring  to  fast  forty  days,  in  imitation  of 
our  Saviour,  starved  to  death  in  the  pious  and  laudable  attempt ! 
The  charnel  aspect  of  the  figures  makes  the  gazers  shudder  with 
horror,  and  pity  the  fools  who  thus  committed  self-murder.  There 
is  a  very  highly  ornamented    monument  in  the  lady-chapel  to 
the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Somerset.     She  was  Lady  Catharine, 
sister  to  Lady  Jane  Grey,  and  grand-niece  to  Henry  the  Eighth ; 
and  to  mark  her  rank,  her  tomb  is  raised  several  inches  above  that 
of  her  husband.     Among  the  other  monuments,  is  one   to   the 
"boy  bishop"  of  the  cathedral.     In  the  days  of  the  Catholic  su- 
premacy in  England,  it  was  customary,  in  certain   parts,  for  the 
boys  connected  with  the  cathedrals  to  elect  one  of  their  number 
bishop  over  themselves  for  the  month,  for  which  time  the  juvenile 
prelate  wore  the  robes  of  office  usual  to  the  mature  official;  and  if 
he  died  during  his  term,  he  was  buried  with  all  the  ceremony  usual 
on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  the  real  functionary.     It  seldom 
occurred  that  one  of  the  cloister  bishops  died  in  office,  but  when 
such  a  thing  did  take  place,  the  deceased  was  honored  with  a  tomb 
of  considerable  elegance  in  the  nave  or  aisles  of  the  edifice.      The 
one  in  Salisbury  Cathedral  is  the  most  perfect  of  the  kind  in  the 
country,  and  the  boyish  face  and  figure   of  the  effigy  in  its  long 
robes  have  a  solemn  appearance  to  the  beholder.     The  verger  and 
myself  wandered  among  the  tombs,  and  through  the  long  perspec- 
tive aisles  of  the  magnificent  fane,  he  pointing    out  the  objects 
most  worthy  of  note,  and  I  admiring  that  which  was  important 
and  grand.     In  the  south  transept  are  several  banners,  from  the 
Punjaub  wars,  waving  over  a  monument  erected  by  the  "surviv- 
ing officers  of  the  62d  regiment  of  Wiltshire  Springers,  to  the 
memory  of  their  companions  in  arms  who  fell  in  the  Sikh  war," 
and  a  singular  memento  to  the  services  of  a  lieutenant  who  was 
killed  at  Moodkee  in  1845. 


322  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

The  cathedral  is  built  entirely  in  one  style  of  Gothic  architec- 
ture, that  of  the  thirteenth  century;  and  its  uniformity,  both  of 
proportions  and  style,  renders  it  an  exception  to  other  English  edi- 
fices of  the  same  character.  The  whole  aspect  of  the  structure  is 
grand,  and,  as  a  perfect  work  in  one  species  of  Gothic,  is  without 
a  rival.  It  has  double  transepts,  to  the  east  of  each  of  which  is  a 
side  aisle;  and  the  nave,  transept,  and  choir  rise  into  an  elevation 
of  three  tiers.  The  columns  of  the  nave  are  clustered,  each  com- 
posed of  four  pillars,  with  as  many  slender  shafts.  There  is  a 
clere-story,  consisting  of  triple  windows,  of  the  lancet  shape ;  and 
the  gallery,  or  second  tier,  which  is  the  roof  of  the  aisles,  has 
pointed  arches,  ornamented  alternately  with  quarter-foils  and  eight- 
leaved  carved  rosettes.  The  interior,  although  fine  and  imposing, 
is  not  either  solemn  or  gorgeous;  nor  does  it  inspire  one  with  awe 
or  veneration.  Its  want  of  elaborate  ornament  causes  it  to  be  ad- 
mired for  its  simple  grandeur  and  uniformity,  like  the  chaste  and 
plain  temples  of  Greece.  The  harmony  of  its  proportions,  and 
consistency  of  architecture,  have  won  for  it  the  name  of  the 
"  Queen  of  English  Cathedrals ;"  and,  as  a  specimen  of  one  style 
thoroughly  carried  out,  it  deserves  the  appellation,  but  when  com- 
pared with  York  or  Wells  for  sublimity  and  elaborate  ornament, 
it  suffers  greatly  by  the  comparison.  The  exterior  is  grand  when 
viewed  from  a  particular  point  of  sight  in  the  cloisters;  and  its 
many  graceful  angles  and  harmonious  geometrical  lines,  its  tall 
and  cutting  spire,  and  its  immense  form,  receive  the  admiration 
of  the  beholder.  The  structure  is  surrounded  by  a  large  inclosure, 
or  close,  planted  with  trees,  and  laid  out  in  convenient  walks  and 
beautiful  grass-plots.  The  spire  is  four  hundred  and  eight  feet 
high,  having  a  greater  altitude,  by  four  feet,  than  the  dome  of  St. 
Paul's,  and  is  as  sharp  as  an  arrow,  but,  unfortunately,  out  of  per- 
pendicular. The  variation  is  twenty-four  and  a  half  inches  soutb, 
and  sixteen  and  a  half  west ;  but,  as  no  change  has  taken  place  in 
its  position  for  two  hundred  years,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe 
that  the  settling  has  been  perniunently  arrested.  A  stone,  placed 
in  the  floor  immediately  under  the  spire,  marks  its  deviation  from 
perpendicular,  and  was  put  in  its  present  position  by  Sir  Christo- 
pher Wren,  when   ho   ascertained,  by  actual  measurement,  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  Or  AN  AMERICAN.  323 

variation  of  the  structure.  Observations  subsequent  to  liis  have 
been  made,  and  at  each  it  was  satisfactorily  learned  that  the  spire 
maintains  its  position. 

The  city  of  Salisbury  is  near  one  or  two  of  the  small  streams, 
the  waters  of  which  are  conducted  through  the  town  by  means 
of  sluices,  and  the  purling  liquid  runs  ceaselessly  along  the  gut- 
ters of  the  principal  streets.  The  buildings  are  mostly  old,  and 
not  of  much  importance.  The  school  in  which  Addison  was 
educated  is  shown  to  the  curious,  but  beyond  the  fact  of  its  being 
his  Alma  Mater,  it  is  without  interest. 

Near  Salisbury  are  the  remains  of  the  British  city  of  Old 
Sarum,  and  several  ancient  Roman  highways,  besides  the  more 
modern  ruins  of  Clarendon  Palace.  The  mounds  of  Old  Sarum 
are  remarkable  for  their  extent  and  antiquity,  and  although  com- 
posed of  chalkstone,  and  overgrown  with  grass,  they  are  very  high 
and  strong  to  this  day.  Twenty-one  acres  are  contained  within 
the  inner  mound  now  remaining,  and  the  fortifications  are  a  mile 
around.  At  this  period,  not  a  vestige  of  its  buildings  is  to  be 
seen,  and  sheep,  attended  by  shepherds  as  stolid  as  the  clods  upon 
which  they  tread,  are  the  only  inhabitants  of  the  once  royal  city 
of  Old  Sarum.  I  procured  an  aged  peasant  for  my  guide,  and 
visited  the  immense  mounds,  and  now  dry  moats,  and  the  site  of 
its  castle,  and  main  edifices.  The  dwellings,  like  their  occupants, 
have  resolved  into  dust,  and  left  no  trace  of  their  individual  being. 
The  page  of  history  records  some  early  traditions  of  the  place, 
and  the  researches  of  the  antiquary  have  revealed  some  few  facts 
connected  with  the  extent  and  importance  of  the  ancient  city,  but 
they  are  mystified  and  obscured,  and  the  dull,  stupid  shepherd  is 
as  likely  to  render  positive  information  to  the  tourist  of  the  place 
as  the  historian  or  antiquarian — each  being  quite  as  well  informed 
as  the  other,  though  differing  in  the  quality  and  kind  of  their 
knowledge. 

The  celebrated  monument  of  antiquity,  Stonehenge,  is  about 
nine  miles  from  Salisbury,  in  the  direction,  but  considerably  north 
of  Old  Sarum,  and  when  at  the  place  last  named,  I  determined 
to  walk  to  the  famous  Druidical  Temple.  I  was  directed  across 
the  dreary  downs,  and  pushed  my  way  for  a  considerable  distance. 


324 

When  thinking  I  had  gained  the  vicinity  of  the  object  for  which 
I  sought,  I  made  inquiry,  and  was  coolly  informed  that  I  had 
been  misdirected,  and  was  several  miles  out  of  my  way.  I  di- 
verged from  the  regular  highway,  and  ascended  the  hills  before  me 
in  the  face  of  a  stiff  breeze,  which  bore  upon  its  wings  a  drizzling 
rain ;  and  after  a  toilsome  march,  attained  the  summit,  where  I 
paused  to  survey  the  surrounding  country;  and  the  dreary  wolds 
upon  which  I  stood  presented  a  scene  of  almost  utter  desolation. 
To  the  south,  the  bold  form  of  Old  Sarum  and  the  sharp  spire 
of  Salisbury  Cathedral  burst  upon  my  sight,  and  relieved  the 
monotony  of  the  prospect  in  that  direction,  while  to  the  north 
stretched  away  the  chalky  downs  with  scarcely  more  than  a  dozen 
trees  visible,  and  but  a  single  house  to  cheer  the  eye.  I  heard 
human  voices  somewhere  near  me,  but  the  rolling  hills  hid  the 
speakers,  and,  after  making  a  little  search,  I  came  up  to  a  plough- 
man and  a  shepherd  boy.  I  inquired  for  Stonehenge,  and  being 
directed  to  the  spot,  looked  far  to  the  north,  and  there,  beyond  a 
clump  of  trees,  in  the  misty  and  shadowy  distance,  I  traced  the 
form  of  the  renowned  temple.  The  rain  increased  ;  the  object 
of  my  visit  was  full  four  miles  off  by  the  shortest  route  j  the  land 
was,  with  but  little  exception,  ploughed  up,  and  the  only  animate 
objects  visible  were  a  few  droves  of  sheep  feeding  on  the  distant 
plain,  and  the  shepherds  in  attendance.  I  was  assured  that  there 
were  no  "  man-traps  nor  spring-guns"  in  the  way,  and  that  I 
would  not  be  trespassing  if  I  pursued  a  straight  course  to  the 
circle  across  the  farms,  and  it  did  not  take  me  long  to  decide 
what  to  do.  Here  I  stood  within  sight  of  the  famous  temple ;  I 
had  come  thousands  of  miles  to  see  it ;  and,  though  the  rain  was 
driving  fast  against  me,  it  would  bo  foolishness  to  retrace  my 
steps  without  gaining  my  point. — There  is  too  much  of  the  go-ahead 
spirit  in  me  to  be  daunted  by  rain,  and,  buttoning  my  overcoat, 
and  fixing  my  eye  on  some  landmarks  before  me,  I  pushed  on. 
For  two  miles  there  was  nothing  particularly  attractive,  and  as  the 
land  over  which  I  was  passing  was  undulating,  my  view,  for  the 
distance  mentioned,  was  circumscribed.  At  last  I  gained  the 
elevated  and  level  plain — level,  compared  with  what  I  had  so 
recently  been  on — and  mot  several  shepherds,  but  they  were  a 


325 

harmless,  idle  set — boorish  in  manners  and  stupidly  ignorant. 
Each  one  was  attended  by  a  dog  such  as  I  have  frequently  seen  in 
other  sections  of  the  country,  and  the  faithful  animal  was  in  every 
case  an  object  of  greater  interest  to  me  than  the  shepherd.  The 
man  was  dull  and  stupid — the  dog  intelligent  and  active ;  the 
dog  could  do  without  the  man,  but  I  could  not  see  that  the  man 
could  get  along  without  the  dog.  As  I  advanced  towards  my 
destination,  I  observed  some  mounds  of  earth  so  strongly  resem- 
bling the  tumuli  of  the  Western  States  of  America,  that  the 
similarity  struck  me  as  wonderful.  The  nearer  I  approached 
Stonehenge,  the  more  numerous  they  became,  and  I  began  to 
reflect  that  too  much  attention  had  been  bestowed  by  antiquaries 
upon  the  circle  to  the  neglect  of  the  other  objects  of  interest 
around.  May  not  these  mounds  be  monuments  of  a  people  an- 
terior to  the  Druids  of  Stonehenge?  And  is  not  their  resem- 
blance to  the  tumuli  of  the  Western  World  evidence  of  the 
existence  of  a  race  of  men,  now  extinct,  who  were  contemporaneous 
in  both  hemispheres?  These  questions  are  not  for  me  to  answer, 
but  the  fact  of  human  bones  having  been  found  in  some  of  the 
mounds  into  which  excavations  have  been  made  proves  a  resem- 
blance in  more  than  one  particular. 

I  neared  the  temple  rapidly,  and  soon  stood  within  its  shadow. 
The  rain  had  greatly  abated,  and  the  high  wind  bore  along  a 
thick  mist,  much  more  agreeable  than  a  drenching  storm.  The 
ponderous  rocks  afforded  me  protection  from  the  blasts,  and  I  sat 
down  in  solitude  upon  one  of  the  fallen  masses  before  surveying 
the  mysterious  circle — an  erection  that  none  have  ever  satisfac- 
torily accounted  for,  and  about  which  antiquaries  differ.  The 
stones  of  which  it  is  built  are  ninety-four  in  number,  and  of 
enormous  size;  some  stand  erect,  and  transverse  blocks  rest  on 
the  tops ;  others  are  strewn  over  the  ground  in  confusion,  but  the 
line  of  the  circle  is  distinctly  marked.  There  they  are — those 
stupendous  recks — miles  away  on  a  dreary  plain,  where  the  largest 
native  stone  to  be  found  will  not  exceed  two  pounds  in  weight ; 
and  then  it  is  of  chalk  formation,  while  the  great  masses  differ 
from  it  in  every  geological  feature.  They  are  solid,  and  have 
stood,  unworn,  facing  the  storms  of  centuries.  Those  I  measured 
28 


826 

are  full  twenty  feet  high,  and  one  of  them  is  seven  feet  wide  and 
three  feet  eight  inches  thick.  They  were  evidently  carried  to 
their  present  position  by  some  powerful  machinery,  for  it  is  barely 
possible  that  rocks  weighing  seventy  tons  each  could  have  been 
transported  for  miles  by  the  mere  physical  force  of  man,  and  the 
Druids  are  not  known  to  have  used  any  other  power.  What  are 
they,  and  who  placed  them  in  their  present  situation?  are  ques- 
tions to  which  no  satisfactory  answers  have  ever  been  given,  and 
there  is  but  little  reason  to  suppose  that  any  persons  will  yet  be 
able  to  account  positively  and  accurately  for  them.  They  were, 
no  doubt,  at  one  period,  a  Druidical  temple ;  but  that  the  Druids 
placed  them  where  they  now  stand  is  altogether  problematical. 
That  class  of  men  availed  themselves  of  natural  and  artificial 
creations  adapted  to  their  purposes,  and  the  fact  that  the  altars  of 
the  sect  in  Wales  were,  for  the  greater  part,  mere  flat  stones 
prostrate  upon  the  earth,  is  proof  that  they  went  to  but  little 
labor  to  build  their  shrines,  even  in  countries  where  rocks  were 
large  and  abundant;  while  the  temple  of  Stonehenge  owes  its 
origin  to  great  physical  and  mechanical  exertion,  and  must  have 
cost  years  in  its  construction.  Located  in  the  centre  of  a  sterile, 
desolate  plain,  many  miles  from  large  quarries  or  deposits  of  stone, 
and  in  a  country  the  geological  formation  of  which  is  so  diflFerent 
from  the  rocks  of  which  it  is  built,  the  very  existence  of  the 
circle  in  that  spot  proves  what  power  was  required  to  place  it 
there ;  and  as  the  Druids  were  never  guilty  of  performing  any 
hard  labor,  it  is  no  more  than  justice  to  acquit  them  of  the  charge 
of  having  erected  the  temple  of  Stonehenge.  If  they  were  the 
authors  of  it,  they  also  raised  the  mounds  before  alluded  to;  but 
as  no  similar  tumuli  are  to  be  found  in  the  vicinity  of  acknow- 
ledged Druidical  temples,  there  is  a  further  proof  that  Stone- 
henge is  the  work  of  a  people  anterior  to  the  ancient  Britons  and 
murderous  Druids.  It  stands  alone  in  the  centre  of  what  was 
once  a  solitary  waste,  and  what  is  but  little  else  now,  although 
the  labor  of  centuries  has  been  expended  in  its  cultivation.  A 
scanty  herbage  is  produced  for  shccp-fcediug,  but  the  soil  is  not 
more  than  an  inch  deep,  and  the  farmer  is  oft^n  repaid  for  his 
trouble  of  ploughing,  by  an  abundant  crop  of  chalk  stones,  so 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  327 

numerous  as  nearly  to  cover  the  earth's  surface  over  which  his 
rule  extends.  I  returned  to  Salisbury,  as  I  went,  on  foot,  but, 
instead  of  keeping  the  road,  I  struck  a  bee-line  for  the  city  over 
the  downs,  and  in  the  walk  of  eight  miles  but  a  solitary  house 
cheered  the  way.  No  trees — no  crops — nothing  but  the  leaden 
sky  and  the  chalky  earth — the  scattered  flocks  and  the  lonely 
shepherds.  It  is  true  there  were  villages  in  the  far  distance,  and 
on  the  edge  of  the  waste;  but  the  plain  was  lifeless,  treeless, 
houseless,  herbless,  save  the  few  objects  alluded  to  above.  I 
struck  into  a  turnpike-road,  when  near  Old  Sarum,  and  stopped 
for  dinner  at  a  village  inn.  Mine  host  was  a  sociable  man,  his 
wife  a  tidy,  bustling  woman;  and  between  them,  they  soon  pre- 
pared me  a  meal  to  which  I  did  justice,  for  my  appetite  was 
sharpened  by  the  walk  and  humid  atmosphere.  Some  few  of  the 
shepherds  whom  I  met  on  the  southern  borders  of  the  downs 
managed  to  open  their  mouths  when  I  spoke,  and  from  them  I 
gleaned  something  of  their  mode  of  life.  Their  wages  vary 
from  sixpence  to  a  shilling  per  day,  out  of  which  sum  they  must 
^nd  themselves;  and  for  that  pittance  they  are  exposed  to  all 
weathers,  and  are  frequently  compelled  to  ^'  tend  their  flocks  by 
night''  as  well  as  by  day.  What  little  I  saw  of  them  did  not  im- 
press me  favorably  with  their  social  condition  or  intelligence,  but 
did  much  to  remove  the  romance  I  have  always  invested  them  with 
since  reading  in  my  Sunday  School  days  the  story  of  the  Shepherd 
of  Salisbury  Plain.     Campbell  somewhere  says : — 

♦'  When  Science  from  Creation's  face 
Encliantment's  veil  withdraws, 
What  lovely  visions  yield  their  place 
To  cold  material  laws!" 

And  the  sentiment  applies  to  other  things  not  scientific;  for 
how  much  do  those  objects  suffer  from  contact  with  us,  that  our 
imaginations  have  invested  with  a  charm — things  which  we  have 
viewed  with  our  mental  eyes,  at  a  distance,  through  the  medium  of 
written  descriptions,  but  which  on  inspection  become  cold  matter- 
of-fact  affairs — without  poetry,  without  beauty.  The  realm  of 
fancy  is  invaded  when  our  desire  to  see  what  we  regard  so  beau- 


328  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

tiful  is  fulfilled;  and  when  we  do  behold  it,  lo!  it  too  often  turns 
to  dust;  and  for  our  pains  we  lose  the  dreams  of  the  beautiful 
which  have  been  our  loves  for  years.  This  coming  into  contact 
with  things  real  and  historical,  things  which  our  minds  have  in- 
vested with  a  halo  of  glory,  is  a  sad  end  to  many  a  splendid 
vision,  and  destroys  the  happiness  of  many  a  mind.  The  being 
finds  he  has  been  cheated,  and  cries,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  dis- 
appointment— 

"  How  vain  the  wish  that  sighs  for  sublunary  things!" 

The  sun  was  low  in  the  heavens  when  I  reached  my  hotel  in 
Salisbury,  and  there  was  but  little  time  allowed  me  for  observation. 
The  city  is  level  and  clean.  The  principal  streets  cross  each 
other  at  right  angles.  There  are  some  fine  stores,  several  places 
of  amusement,  and  a  rich  assortment  of  churches.  Like  all  the 
large  towns  of  the  kingdom,  it  is  well  lighted  with  gas,  has  an 
efl5cient  police,  and  an  extensive  market.  Railways  connect  it 
with  Southampton,  AVinchester,  and  London,  and  its  trade  is  con- 
siderable. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

WINCHESTER,  AND  ITS  ATTRACTIONS — ST.  CROSS  HOSPITAL — 

KING  Arthur's  round  table,  etc. 

My  entrance  into  the  ancient  capital  of  the  realm  was  at  a  late 
hour  of  the  night,  and  I  followed  along,  not  exactly  knowing 
where  I  was  going  until  I  gained  the  main  street  of  the  city. 
The  thoroughfare  was  comparatively  deserted,  and  I  sought  out  a 
place  of  rest.  No  one  knew  me,  and  I  knew  not  a  soul  in  the 
town,  and  sauntered  along  as  independent  as  an  Indian  chief.  A 
comfortable  inn  invited  a  visit,  and  I  entered  its  doors  for  the 
purpose  of  obtaining  lodgings,  but  on  application  was  refused. 
The  landlady  looked  at  me  from  head  to  foot  with  a  suspicious 
eye,  and  then  at  her  husband,  who  surveyed  me  in  like  manner, 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  329 

and,  after  the  cautious  pair  had  fully  satisfied  themselves,  they 
gruffly  told  me  they  had  no  room — and  a  lie  !  I  did  not  stand 
to  plead,  but  returned  to  the  street  and  sought  further,  and  with 
success.  A  servant  took  my  knapsack,  and  ushered  me  into  a 
parlor,  where  a  bright  fire  blazed  cheerfully.  I  sat  down  in  an 
arm-chair,  drew  ofi"  my  boots  before  the  grate,  ordered  supper,  read 
"The  Times,''  and  didn't  care  a  button  for  anyone  connected 
with  the  Dolphin,  over  the  way — the  shanty  in  which  I  was  re- 
fused a  bed — and  that  the  first  time  in  my  life. 

The  cities  of  the  south  of  England  differ  so  greatly  from  those 
of  the  north,  that  the  traveller  is  led  to  believe  that  they  don't 
belong  to  the  same  realm.  There  are  no  large  manufactories  and 
smoky  atmosphere,  but,  what  is  infinitely  better  to  view,  clean 
streets,  brave  old  cathedrals,  and  quaint  buildings  of  the  ancient 
day.  The  streams  near  by  are  mostly  pure  crystal  currents, 
and  the  air  above  is  uncontaminated — unpolluted.  Winchester 
is  the  oldest  city  in  the  land,  and  was  the  home  of  royalty  before 
London.  Its  origin  is  involved  in  obscurity,  but  tradition  and 
the  historical  monuments  of  the  nation  represent  it  as  one  of  the 
earliest  settlements  of  the  first  known  inhabitants  of  the  island. 
It  is  the  burial-place  of  Alfred  the  Great,  Canute  the  Dane,  and 
the  tyrant  William  Rufus.  It  has  been  the  royal  residence  of  a 
long  line  of  England's  kings,  and  the  scene  of  many  historical 
events  of  importance.  In  its  palmy  days,  it  was  the  seat  of  govern- 
ment,  and  contained  the  Royal  Mint,  Treasury,  and  office  of  pub- 
lic records.  A  few  remains  of  a  castle,  built  by  William  the 
Conqueror,  are  still  in  existence,  and  portions  of  the  city  walls, 
erected  anterior  to  the  days  of  King  Stephen  for  purposes  of  de- 
fence, are  in  fine  preservation.  The  great  massacre  of  all  the 
Danes  settled  in  England  commenced  at  AVinchester,  and  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  and  Lords  Coleham  and  Grey  were  tried  in  it 
for  high  treason  in  the  days  of  James  the  First.  Jeffries  there 
condemned  to  the  block  the  amiable  Alice  Lisle,  when  on  his 
bloody  tour  following  the  suppression  of  Monmouth's  rebellion, 
and  she  died  on  a  scaffold  in  the  market-place  of  the  city.  It  wit- 
nessed the  coronation  of  William  Rufus,  and  the  second  crowning 
of  Richard  Coour  dc  Lion,  after  his  return  from  his  romantic  ad- 

28* 


330  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

ventures  in  the  crusades.  There  Henry  the  Fourth  wedded  Joan 
of  Brittany,  and  it  was  in  the  cathedral  of  the  city  that  the  mar- 
riage between  Mary  of  England  and  Philip  of  Spain  was  celebrated. 
During  the  civil  wars,  it  was  the  scene  of  battle  and  siege,  having 
been  taken  and  retaken  three  several  times,  twice  by  the  Parlia- 
mentary, and  once  by  the  lloyal  troops.  In  the  last  engagement, 
Cromwell  blew  up  the  castle,  battered  the  fortifications  to  pieces, 
and  destroyed  the  bishop's  palace,  besides  stabling  his  horses  in 
the  cathedral,  and  allowing  his  soldiers  to  deface  the  monuments, 
and  otherwise  injure  the  edifice.  Charles  the  Second  commenced 
a  palace  in  it  in  1682,  but  it  never  was  completed,  and  is  now 
used  AS  a  barracks ;  and  Hichard  Cromwell,  after  resigning  the 
Protectorate,  passed  the  balance  of  his  days  in  retirement,  at  the 
old  manor-house  of  Mardon,  at  Hursley,  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  the  city. 

These  are  some  of  the  historical  records  of  Winchester,  and  if 
this  were  the  place  for  it,  I  might  recount  other  incidents  of  equal 
importance  which  transpired  in  the  once  royal,  but  now  decayed 
and  fallen  capital  of  England. 

When  I  pored  over  the  pages  of  English  history  in  a  remote 
village  of  Pennsylvania,  and  read  with  breathless  interest  the 
events  so  graphically  described  by  the  historian,  I  scarcely  be- 
lieved it  possible  that  I  should  ever  stand  in  the  places  made 
famous  by  the  occurrences  of  time  and  the  pen  of  the  chronicler, 
and  hence,  when  I  enter  an  ancient  city,  whose  name  is  connected 
with  never-to-be-forgotten  events,  I  move  along  its  streets  as  if 
in  a  consecrated  place,  and  with  feelings  akin  to  veneration. 

The  old  and  crooked  streets,  the  renowned  buildings,  and  the 
ancient  aspect  of  Winchester  are  well  adapted  to  recall  to  the 
mind  of  the  student  of  English  history  feelings  such  as  I  have 
referred  to.  Its  Gothic  market-cross  is  preserved  with  pious 
care,  and  its  cathedral  and  college  are  shown  with  pride.  The 
city  is  small,  but  attractive,  and  the  little  stream  that  flows  by  it 
is  a  deep,  transparent  rill,  clear  as  a  burnished  mirror.  Some  of 
the  houses  on  tlic  main  street  are  built  immediately  on  the  curb, 
but  the  first  story  in  each  of  these  is  a  part  of  an  arcade  or 
passage-way  for  pedestrians,   and  the  whole  combined  form  an 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  331 

agreeable  covered  promenade  for  some  distance,  with  shops  facing 
the  walk. 

My  day  of  observation  succeeded  to  a  night  of  rain,  and  the 
clear  air  and  bright  sun  made  things  more  than  usually  beautiful. 
The  streets  were  clean,  the  shops  showy  and  fine,  the  people  act- 
ive, and  the  sparrows  doubly  tame  and  sociable.  I  wended  my 
way  to  the  cathedral  through  a  paved  court  entrance,  and  soon 
reached  the  green  inclosure  or  grounds  around  the  edifice.  The 
building  is  very  large,  in  the  usual  form  of  a  cross,  with  a  tower 
rising  from  the  transepts  and  choir.  The  exterior,  particularly  the 
western  end,  is  richly  embellished  with  carvings  and  niches,  ar- 
cades, and  splendid  windows.  The  buttresses  are  fine  ornaments 
to  the  structure,  and  as  each  of  them  is  surmounted  by  pinnacles 
terminated  by  finials,  richly  foliated,  they  have  a  pleasing  effect  to 
the  eye.  The  great  western  window  is  divided  by  transoms  and 
mullions,  which  give  it  a  superb  appearance,  in  connection  with 
the  smaller  ones  at  the  side,  the  great  arched  doors,  and  the 
mouldings  on  the  other  sections  of  the  front.  The  interior  of  the 
nave  is  sublime,  and  the  eye  shoots  along  the  lofty  vault,  fretted 
with  exquisite  tracery,  and  rests  in  admiration  on  the  glowing 
colors  of  the  eastern  window.  The  extent  of  this  portion  of  the 
gorgeous  shrine  is  three  hundred  feet,  and  its  vaulted  ceiling 
eighty  feet  high.  Imagine  to  yourself  its  grandeur  from  these 
dimensions,  and  reflect  that  the  choir  and  lady-chapel  add  one 
hundred  and  eighty  feet  more  to  the  view.  Probably  the  great 
fault  of  Winchester  cathedral  is,  its  want  of  architectural  uni- 
formity— a  fault  belonging  more  or  less  to  nearly  every  similar 
edifice  in  England.  There  are  grand  specimens  of  Norman, 
English,  and  pointed  Gothic ;  and  the  student  of  the  art  will  find 
in  this  building  the  perfection  of  each  of  these  styles.  The  fact 
that  the  edifice  was  four  hundred  years  in  course  of  erection  suf- 
ficiently accounts  for  the  variety  of  its  architecture;  but  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  it  was  not  completed  as  it  was  begun,  in  the  purest 
Norman.  The  tower  is  too  low — too  squatty,  if  such  an  expres- 
sion may  be  allowed.  The  transepts  are  lofty  and  grand,  and  the 
whole  interior  masterly.  The  tombs  are  numerous,  and  that  of  the 
celebrated  Wykenhara  the  best  preserved  ecclesiastical  monument 


332  THE  FOOTPATII  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

of  the  olden  time  in  the  country.  The  figure  of  the  bishop  re- 
poses at  full  length  on  the  richly  carved  tomb,  and  it  is  in  such 
a  state  of  preservation  that  one  would  suppose  it  a  modern  instead 
of  an  ancient  work.  There  is  a  bronze  statue  of  Charles  the  First 
on  one  side  of  the  entrance  to  the  choir  from  the  nave,  and  one  of 
James  the  First  on  the  opposite  side ;  and  both  are  fair  specimens 
of  the  art,  and  must  have  been  chpf-d* oeuvres  when  executed. 
The  interior  of  the  choir  is  glorious,  and  with  its  stained  glass 
windows,  its  decorated  ceiling,  and  carved  stalls,  leaves  a  lasting 
impression  on  the  mind  of  the  beholder.  West's  grand  picture 
of  the  "  Raising  of  Lazarus"  ornaments  the  altar-screen  at  the 
chancel-end  of  the  choir,  but  the  tone  of  its  coloring,  though 
better  than  that  of  the  majority  of  the  artist's  works,  is  not  so 
mellow  as  could  be  desired.  It  is  so  placed  as  to  obscure  a  great 
portion  of  the  screen,  the  delicacy  of  which  is  marvellous,  and  a 
study  for  the  sculptor  of  this  age.  Two  elegant  stone  partitions, 
one  on  either  side,  divide  the  choir  from  the  side  aisles,  and  on 
the  tops  of  these  are  ranged,  in  regular  order,  six  mortuary  chests 
containing  human  bones.  They  bear  Latin  inscriptions,  setting 
forth  that  within  are  deposited  the  skeletons  of  various  kings  of 
England,  from  the  year  641  to  1100. 

One  of  these  chests,  the  third,  contains  the  bones,  in  part,  of 
Canute,  the  Danish  king,  his  queen  Emma,  the  Fair  Maid  of 
Normandy,  and  William  llufus — a  strange  commingling,  surely, 
of  the  ashes  of  the  royal.  In  addition  to  these,  may  be  mentioned 
the  remains  of  two  Saxon  prelates,  Wina  and  Stigand ;  and  the 
inscription  states  that  they  were  deposited  in  their  present  resting- 
place  in  IGGl,  "having  been  exhumed  and  scattered  about  by 
sacrilegious  barbarians  in  the  year  1042,"  which  is  another  sin 
for  poor  old  Noll's  broad  shoulders.  I  was  conducted  through 
the  building  by  an  officer  who  pointed  out  the  tomb  of  William 
llufus,  and  llichard,  the  second  son  of  William  the  Conqueror ; 
and  the  chair  which  Queen  Mary  occupied  at  the  time  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  was  performed  between  her  and  Philip  of  Spain. 
They  were  married  in  the  lady-chapel,  and  the  chair  is  in  that 
department.  There  are  several  fine  figures  of  crusaders  in  tho 
chancel  and  aisles,  and  a  splendid  statue  of  Bishop  North,  by 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  333 

Chantrej.  The  verger  left  me  for  a  time  to  myself,  and  as  I 
loitered  about  the  aisles  and  chapels  alone,  I  devoted  my  attention 
to  such  objects  as  most  interested  me,  in  an  architectural  or  histo- 
rical light.  The  Norman  arches  and  doors  of  the  lower  stories 
impressed  me  with  their  solemn  grandeur — and  the  elegance  of 
the  upper  work  contrasted  strongly  with  the  heavier  parts  below. 
There  are  several  small  chapels  connected  with  the  principal  build- 
ing by  vaulted  passages,  and  in  one  of  these,  called  Prior  Silk- 
stede's  Chapel,  I  stepped  upon  a  stone  fitted  in  the  floor,  which 
contained  an  inscription,  and,  on  reading,  found  it  to  be  the  tomb 
of  that  prince  of  anglers,  "  honest  Isaac  AYalton !"  There  he 
sleeps  in  that  lonely  cell  of  the  great  cathedral,  and  not  far  off 
gurgle  the  waters  of  the  meandering  Itchen,  in  whose  depths  he 
so  oft  dipped  his  treacherous  bait.  The  rays  of  the  sun  struggle 
through  the  misty  glass  of  the  solemn  Norman  windows,  and  fall 
wavingly  on  the  black  marble  on  which  the  curious  may  read  as 
follows : — 

Here  resteth  the  body  of 
Mr.  Isaac  Walton, 
who  died  the  Fifteenth  of  December, 
1683. 
Alas !  he's  gone  before, 
Gone  to  return  no  more ; 
Our  parting  breasts  aspire 
After  their  aged  sire. 
Whose  well-spent  life  did  last 
Full  ninety  years  and  past ; 
But  now  he  has  begun 
That  which  will  ne'er  be  done  ; 
Crowned  with  eternal  bliss. 
We  wish  our  souls  with  his. 

And  in  Latin  :  "  Thus,  modest  hours  his  children  wept."  The 
lines  are  dull  enough,  and  quite  as  effective  as  a  dose  of  opium 
for  purposes  of  sleep,  and  do  not  speak  much  in  favor  of  the  poeti- 
cal talent  of  their  author,  whoever  he  was.  ^ 

One  of  the  old  charities  of  the  land  is  still  sustained  at  the 
Hospital  and  Church  of  St.  Cross,  about  a  mile  from  Winchester, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Itchen.     Thirteen  aged  men  live  there  in 


334  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  highway; 

houses  provided  for  them,  and  pass  their  days  in  repose.  They 
are  clothed  in  a  long-forgotten  costume,  and  have  the  appearance 
of  the  ghosts  of  men  who  died  in  the  twelfth  century.  It  is  a 
peaceful  home  for  those  weather-worn  old  men,  that  Hospital  of 
St.  Cross,  and  they  enjoy  its  charities  in  quiet  and  seclusion. 
The  custom  of  giving  away  to  any  who  may  apply  for  it  a  mug 
of  beer  and  crust  of  bread  is  still  adhered  to.  The  porter's  lodge 
is  in  the  great  arched  gateway,  and  on  knocking  at  the  door  of  the 
attendant's  residence,  and  demanding  the  gift,  you  are  at  once 
supplied.  Many  persons  of  respectability  go  and  receive  the  beer 
and  crust  through  mere  curiosity,  and  to  continue  the  ancient 
custom.  When  I  was  there,  several  Irishmen  were  sitting  on  the 
bench  at  the  porter's  gate,  waiting  for  the  bounty  of  the  place. 

I  continued  my  walk  around  the  city,  visiting  the  most  famous 
places,  and  among  others  the  barracks,  once  the  palace  of  Charles 
the  Second.  A  regiment  of  red  coats  was  on  parade,  and  every 
man  moved  with  the  precision  of  a  piece  of  senseless  machinery. 
The  officers  were  a  set  of  whiskered  dandies,  and  the  soldiers 
wooden  men.  I  loft  the  brave  warriors  of  her  Majesty,  and  pass- 
ing through  the  west  gate,  the  most  entire  of  the  ancient  city 
fortifications,  approached  the  old  castle.  What  remains  of  the 
fortress  has  been  converted  into  a  portion  of  the  walls  of  the 
modern  Court-House,  and  therefore  does  not  show  to  advantage. 
The  grand  room  contains  a  relic  of  the  past — famous  the  wide 
world  over — the  Round  Table  of  King  Arthur  and  his  knights.  It 
is  suspended  on  the  eastern  wall,  and,  to  prevent  it  from  fulling 
to  pieces,  has  an  iron  band  securely  placed  around  the  outer  edge. 
I  had  no  means  of  measuring  it,  but  should  judge  it  to  be  full 
fifteen  feet  in  diameter.  The  top  is  divided  off  into  regular  and 
equal  portions,  which  are  painted  alternately  white  and  green, 
beaded  with  red  lines.  The  name  of  each  knight  and  baron  is 
in  the  arch  of  the  division  allotted  to  him,  and  the  portrait  of  the 
king  is  conspicuously  painted  on  one  of  the  sections.  The  table 
bears  an  iiy^ription,  in  addition  to  the  names  of  the  knights,  and 
is  perforatea  with  bullets,  said  to  have  been  fired  through  it  by 
Oliver  Cromwell's  soldiers,  when  in  Winchester.  The  old  relic 
calls  to  the  mind  of  the  gazer  the  throng  of  twenty-four  mailed 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  335 

barons  who  were  wont  to  gather  round  it  in  the  days  of  chivalry, 
and  there 

"  Drink  the  red  -wine  tliro'  the  helmet  barred." 

Each  one  had  a  space  sufficiently  large  for  his  goblet  of  grape- 
juice  and  flagon  of  bright  Burgundy,  and  many  a  loud  laugh  and 
piquant  jest  has  circulated  round  that  famous  board  in  the  days 
of  old  when  the  luscious  beverage  was  at  work  in  the  brains  of  the 
warriors  there  asvsembled.  It  looks  as  if  designed  for  wassail  and 
revelry,  and  right  well  do  they  who  preserve  it  in  iron  bands  as  it 
now  is. 

In  my  rambles  about  the  city,  I  noticed  the  condition  of  the 
lower  order  of  people,  but  as  it  varies  but  little  from  that  of  the 
same  class  in  any  of  the  other  southern  cities,  there  is  but  little 
worth  recording  here.  While  sitting  in  the  coffee-room  of  my 
inn,  I  entered  into  conversation  with  a  workingman,  who  readily 
communicated  such  information  respecting  the  city  as  I  desired. 
He  possessed  a  strong  intellect,  good  conversational  powers,  and 
a  friendly  spirit.  Wherever  I  met  with  intelligent  workingmen 
in  England,  and  there  are  many  such,  I  always  found  liberal 
sentiments  and  kindly  treatment,  and  a  knowledge  of  history  and 
politics  truly  astonishing,  when  it  is  considered  that  such  know- 
ledge was  acquired  by  hard  study  after  a  long  day's  labor.  Such 
are  the  thinking  men  of  England,  and  their  numbers  are  daily 
increasing  with  their  stock  of  knowledge,  and  if  they  continue  to 
increase  throughout  the  country  for  the  next  ten  years,  as  fast  as 
they  have  done  in  the  ten  just  past,  they  will,  ere  long,  seal  the 
fate  of  royalty  in  the  realm  of  Great  Britain,  and  sweep  into  the 
vortex  of  the  past  every  kingly  claim.  They  think — they  reason 
— they  act;  and,  however  much  they  may  be  sneered  at  and  con- 
temned, ridiculed,  vilified,  and  abused,  they  still  press  on  in  the 
path  of  justice  and  popular  rights,  unmindful  of  the  titled  drones 
who  suck  their  life's  blood,  and  yet  laugh  them  to  scorn ;  and  are 
sowing  the  seeds  now  of  a  revolution  which  must  eventually  tell 
with  terrible  force  against  the  aristocracy  of  the  country,  and  fix 
its  doom.  They  are  not  very  numerous  comparatively,  but  they 
are  not  idlers,  and  act  with  a  firm  conviction  of  being  the  soldiers 


336  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY ; 

of  a  righteous  cause,  and  neither  falter  nor  halt  in  their  manly 
course.  What  they  sow  takes  root,  and  the  fruits  of  their  labor 
will  be  felt  and  seen  among  the  young  of  their  class  of  the  rising 
generation.  Kingcraft  is  sealed  in  England,  and  these  men  are 
silently,  noiselessly,  slowly,  but  surely,  working  out  the  truth,  and 
will  develop  it  to  the  world  in  its  own  proper  time.  It  will  be  a 
bloodless  revolution — a  revolution  of  mind  over  exploded  theories 
— of  intelligence  and  justice  over  tyranny,  hypocrisy,  and  wrong 
— of  the  too  long  downtrodden  and  spurned  many  over  the  legal- 
ized, aristocratic,  supercilious,  and  arrogant  few. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

RETURN  TO  LONDON — RAMBLES — OLD  PLACES — FALLEN  WOMEN. 

From  Winchester  to  the  metropolis  I  met  with  but  little  of 
note,  and  as  the  route  lay  over  a  country  both  level  and  unin- 
teresting there  was  nothing  worthy  of  particular  attention.  When 
I  arrived  at  the  Waterloo  station,  on  the  Surrey  side  of  the 
Thames,  things  were  different  from  what  they  were  during  the 
continuance  of  the  Exhibition.  The  trains  were  less  crowded,  the 
cabs  more  idle,  and  the  landing  less  thronged  than  when  I  last 
visited  the  place.  Then  foreigners  with  mustaches  crowded  the 
approaches,  and  one's  ears  were  saluted  by  a  confusion  of  tongues, 
strange  and  incomprehensible.  Frenchmen,  Belgians,  Germans, 
and  Spaniards  were  there  preparing  for  their  return  to  the  Con- 
tinent, and  busy  porters  and  interpreters  were  directing  the 
strangers  to  the  carriages  which  were  to  convey  them  away.  Now 
there  were  none  but  natives  present,  and  they  were  cold  and  re- 
served in  manner.  I  escaped  from  the  mass  that  emerged  from 
the  cars  and  filled  the  platform,  and  gained  the  open  street  as 
soon  as  circumstances  would  permit.  The  streets  were  not 
thronged  with  pedestrians,  as  in  the  zenith  of  the  Exhibition  en- 
thusiasm, and   the  omnibus  proprietors  had  relaxed  their  ava- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  337 

riciousness  by  reducing  the  fares  from  sixpence  to  one-half  that 
sum.  Seven  weeks  had  worked  wonders  in  the  great  city,  but  no 
great  change  in  my  friendly  landlord,  for,  when  I  knocked  at  his 
door,  I  was  welcomed  with  unfeigned  delight  by  himself  and 
family,  and  felt  that  I  was  really  at  home.  It  was  a  sincere  out- 
pouring of  true,  honest  friendship,  that  cordial  greeting,  and  such 
a  one  as  comes  with  joy  to  the  heart  of  a  stranger  in  a  foreign 
land. 

The  man  who  has  a  penchant  for  the  old  and  remarkable  finds 
sufficient  to  occupy  his  time  and  attention  when  in  London. 
There  is  abundant  to  admire,  and  much  to  record. 

I  amused  myself  in  various  ways  when  strolling  about  the  city; 
but  my  greatest  gratification  was  derived  from  visiting  such  places 
as  are  celebrated  by  their  connection  with  the  famous  men  and 
remarkable  events  of  the  olden  time.  I  hunted  out  the  "  Devil 
Tavern"  and  the  ^'Grecian;"  but  there  is  not  a  feature  of  their 
ancient  glory  remaining.  The  people  who  resort  to  them  are 
clothed  in  the  habit  of  our  day,  and  you  look  in  vain  for  the  strange 
costume  of  the  time  of  Queen  Anne.  At  night,  these  houses  ap- 
pear more  sacred  than  during  the  day,  for  it  was  at  night  that 
they  were  fullest  of  company  in  their  days  of  glory,  and  it  is  then 
that  they  are  most  crowded  now. 

The  vicinity  of  Temple  Bar,  and  thence  up  the  Strand,  was  a 
favorite  resort ;  but  I  sometimes  varied  my  walk  and  rambled  into 
the  eastern  part  of  the  city,  as  far  as  Tower  Hill  and  the  Docks. 
St.  Dunstan's  Church,  in  the  east,  has  often  attracted  me;  and  not 
only  its  strange  steeple,  but  its  architectural  beauties  repaid  me 
for  my  trouble.  The  old  houses  on  the  narrow,  crooked,  and  steep 
streets,  and  the  busy,  maritime,  mercantile-looking  people  there- 
about during  the  day,  have  so  much  of  the  air  of  the  past  about 
them  that  I  took  more  pleasure  in  visiting  them  than  any  other 
objects  in  London,  because  the  inhabitants  are  more  in  character 
with  the  buildings  they  inhabit  than  the  dwellers  in  Cheapside  and 
Fleet  Street  are  with  those  renowned  sections.  Tower  Hill  de- 
tained me  frequently,  and  I  looked  over  it  with  strange  feelings, 
on  to  the  prisons  of  many  whose  names  are  household  words  in 
America — Lady  Jane  Grey's,  Anne  Boleyn's,  and  Sir  Thomas 
29 


338  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

More's.  Then  there  is  Trinity  House,  and  the  birthplace  of  Wil- 
liam Penn,  for  he  was  born  on  Tower  Hill.  I  sometimes  stood 
there  alone  in  a  reflecting  mood,  and,  regardless  of  the  showman 
who  exhibited  his  learned  birds  and  quadrupeds,  called  to  mind 
the  scenes  witnessed  on  that  spot  in  other  days,  when  crowds 
gathered  there  to  look  upon  such  as  were  brought  forth  to  die. 
The  grass  grows  green  in  the  once  fetid  moat,  and  flowers  bloom 
on  the  place  that  soaked  the  gore  of  the  too  often  innocent  who 
suff'ered  there;  but  the  earth  is  the  same  now  as  when  executions 
were  common  on  the  spot,  although  time  and  policies  are  changed, 
and  my  fancy  often  pictured  before  me  the  assembled  crowd  wait- 
ing to  witness  a  fellow-being  die.  That  is  the  place  of  death,  and 
the  one  who  is  familiar  with  the  history  of  the  Tower  cannot  help 
calling  to  mind  the  scenes  of  the  past  when  standing  near  it.  In 
front  is  the  White  Tower,  with  its  solid  Norman  arches  and  im- 
penetrable walls,  and  beyond  that  the  crime-begrimed  Bloody 
Tower,  in  which  the  prince  sons  of  Edward  the  Fourth  were  mur- 
dered by  their  uncle's  hired  assassins;  and  nearer,  the  Bowyer 
Tower,  where  tradition  says  Clarence  was  drowned  in  a  butt  of 
malmsey.  Men  in  the  soldier-dress  of  the  days  of  Henry  the 
Seventh,  big,  burly,  hcef-eating  Britons,  stand  within  the  archway 
by  which  you  enter  the  gloomy  prison ;  and  sentinels  pace  to  and 
fro  before  the  ponderous  gates.  The  building  and  its  towers,  its 
walls  and  battlements,  its  cells  and  apartments,  are,  with  but  few 
exceptions,  the  same  as  when  men  were  chained  therein  for  real 
or  fancied  crimes  j  and,  as  I  gazed  upon  the  Hill  and  the  Tower  of 
London,  the  names  of  those  who  there  suffered  death  flashed  across 
my  mind.  The  place  of  execution  is  visible  from  the  outer  side 
of  the  walls,  and  I  often  stood  where  Margaret  of  Shrewsbury, 
Surrey  the  poet.  Lord  Dudley,  the  Earl  of  Stafford,  Archbishop 
Laud,  young  Harry  Vane,  and  Howard,  Earl  of  Straff'ord,  yielded 
up  their  lives  in  extenuation  of  real  or  imputed  crimes.  Years 
have  gone  by  since  the  last  execution  took  place  on  Tower  Hill; 
but  the  murders  perpetrated  there  can  never  be  obliterated  from 
the  pages  of  history,  nor  will  the  impression  of  the  spot  made 
upon  the  minds  of  youthful  readers  by  the  chronicler  ever  bo 
forgotten. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  339 

As  the  stranger  stands  and  looks  riverwards  from  the  eminence, 
his  eye  meets  the  crowded  Thames  and  the  various  craft  which 
traverse  its  bosom ;  and  the  mind  is  led  into  reflections  on  the 
past,  suggested  by  different  associations  from  those  connected  with 
the  walls  of  the  tower  and  the  places  of  execution.  Large  steam- 
ships navigate  the  sinuous  river,  and  countless  shipping  blacken 
its  waters,  and  with  their  tall  masts  almost  shut  out  from  sight 
the  opposite  shore.  How  different  is  the  Thames  at  London  now 
from  what  it  was  when  the  keels  of  the  Koman  galleys  divided  its 
waters,  and  the  fleets  of  the  conqueror  covered  its  surface  !  And 
how  altered  from  what  it  was  two  hundred  years  ago,  when  hosts 
of  wherries  and  watermen  moved  upon  its  bosom,  and  but  one 
wretched,  rickety  bridge  spanned  its  waters !  The  glory  of  the 
abusive  boatman  has  departed,  and  his  calling  is  almost  unknown 
at  this  day  in  the  very  locality  where,  less  than  a  century  ago,  it 
was  deemed  indispensable  and  considered  imperishable.  Now, 
steam  usurps  the  stream  and  business  of  the  once  useful  wherry; 
and  foot-passengers  cross  and  recross  from  shore  to  shore  of  the 
Thames,  both  over  and  under  its  waters,  without  molestation,  at 
all  hours,  day  and  night,  and  almost  without  charge.  The  river 
streets  of  the  eastern  section  of  the  metropolis  are  narrow,  muddy 
or  dusty,  and  thronged.  They  partake,  more  or  less,  of  the 
character  of  the  streets  nearest  the  rivers  in  other  cities,  so  far  as 
business  is  concerned,  and  the  people  who  inhabit  them ;  but  the 
houses  are  old,  the  footways  narrow,  and  the  general  appearance 
gloomy.  The  men  you  encounter  there  are  bent  on  trade,  and 
the  heavy  vans  and  ponderous  carts  which  roll  lazily  through 
those  avenues,  lumbered  up  with  merchandise,  convey  to  the 
mind  of  the  beholder  an  idea  of  the  peculiar  business  transacted 
there.  I  was  rather  fond  of  sauntering  through  them,  and  my 
face  became  known  in  one  or  two  coffee-houses  in  Lower  Thames 
Street,  but  more  particularly  in  that  one  called  Czar's  Head,  cele- 
brated for  having  been  the  place  to  which  Peter  the  Grreat  was 
accustomed  to  retire  after  finishing  his  day's  labor  in  the  ship- 
yard where  he  wrought  as  a  journeyman  when  in  London. 

Below  the  Tower,  the  streets  are  generally  badly  built,  and  the 
abodes  of  wretched  poor.     Rose-Mary  Lane,  in  that  quarter,  was 


340  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHWAY; 

famous,  centuries  ago,  for  its  squalid  appearance,  and  its  trade  in 
worn-out  articles  of  apparel,  old  furniture,  and  scraps  of  iron.  I 
never  saw  a  more  varied  collection  of  broken  and  worn-out  things 
than  is  contained  in  some  of  the  shops  in  that  home  of  the  desti- 
tute poor,  and  resort  of  thieves  and  vagabonds.  Petticoat  Lane, 
the  Broadway  of  the  cheating  and  lying  Jews  of  London,  is  pro- 
bably worse  in  its  general  features ;  but  it  does  not  harbor  so 
many  really  destitute  beings.  Squalid  wretchedness  meets  the 
stranger  at  every  turn ;  and  T  was  more  than  once  shocked  in 
beholding  women  so  badly  clothed  as  to  be  scarcely  fit  for  public 
gaze,  and  certainly  unfit  to  go  into  the  presence  of  those  members 
of  their  sex  whose  nerves  are  shocked  when  they  come  in  con- 
tact with  ill  and  unfashionably  dressed  people.  In  a  walk  of 
half  an  hour,  I  met  more  degraded,  half-naked,  barefooted  females, 
and  sickly  children,  than  I  ever  saw  in  the  United  States  in  nearly 
twenty  years.  Poor  wretches,  without  bonnets,  whose  straggling 
hair  streamed  in  the  cold  damp  winds  of  December,  were  walking 
barefooted  over  the  mud-clotted  pavement,  and  shivering  with 
chill,  and  I  was  touched  with  compassion  for  their  awful  and 
friendless  condition.  My  store  was  opened  to  their  relief;  and  it 
was  a  luxury  to  me  to  be  able  to  render  such  as  I  could  a  tempo- 
rary good.  Who  that  has  ever  gazed  upon  a  fallen,  sunken 
woman,  wandering  the  streets,  barefooted  and  with  loosened  hair, 
without  a  sympathizer  and  homeless,  but  has  felt  his  heart  throb 
with  compassion  for  the  houseless  outcast  ?  I  never  see  such  an 
object  of  pity  without  reflecting  that  the  degraded  one  before  mo 
was  once  a  sinless  child  at  her  mother's  knee,  and  happy — a 
guileless  prattler,  whose  voice  was  music  to  its  parents'  ears  j  and 
then  to  think  how  fallen — how  corrupt — how  degraded  her  woman- 
hood !  But  few  look  kindly  on  her,  and  the  world  passes  her  by 
unheeded.  Lot  her  reform,  let  her  work,  is  the  cry ;  but  who 
takes  her  by  the  hand,  and  raises  her  from  her  degradation? 
Who  offers  her  a  home  and  employment?  Surely  not  those  who 
tell  her  to  labor.  Where,  then,  is  she  to  find  the  means  of  re- 
forming, and  work,  if  she  wants  it  ?  The  opportunities  for  im- 
proving her  condition  are  rare ;  nearly  all  shrink  from  her  as 
from  contagion ;  and  at  last  she  dies  in  a  ditch  and  rots  on  a  dung- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  341 

hill ! — the  usual  fate  of  that  home  of  a  soul — that  form  of  an 
angel. 

I  occasionally  took  a  stroll,  after  sundown,  along  Holborn  and 
Oxford  Streets,  where  I  saw  another  phase  of  life  from  that 
exhibited  on  the  streets  nearer  the  river.  Those  thoroughfares 
are  wider  than  the  Strand,  or  Fleet,  and  constantly  crowded,  day 
and  night.  The  shops  are  showy  and  fashionable,  and  in  many 
of  them  are  displayed  finery  of  every  description.  Gin-palaces 
are  numerous,  and  their  dazzling  lights  and  gilded  signs  never  fail 
of  attracting  the  eye.  Every  species  of  humbug  is  practised  by 
some  of  the  keepers  of  these  places  to  obtain  custom,  and  crowds 
of  the  curious  assemble  nightly  at  the  doors  to  see  bar-maids 
arrayed  in  the  Bloomer  costume,  or  some  other  equally  stupid 
attraction.  As  the  night  wears  on,  the  respectable  portion  of  the 
people,  who  may  be  abroad,  gradually  disappear,  and  by  eleven 
o'clock  have  nearly  deserted  the  streets,  and  given  them  up  to  the 
houseless  and  the  profligate,  the  abandoned  and  the  prostitute. 
Holborn  and  Oxford  Streets  are  not  the  only  night  resorts  of 
degraded  women,  unfortunately.  Almost  every  thoroughfare  in 
Loudon  is  the  haunt  of  these  poor  beings,  and  thousands  of  them 
go  forth  at  night  to  pursue  their  wretched  calling.  From  obser- 
vations made  during  a  residence  of  some  months,  I  firmly  believe 
that  the  abandoned  women  of  London  are  of  every  age — from  the 
tender  years  of  childhood  to  the  more  advanced  and  declining 
periods  of  life — and  various  conditions  and  castes.  Some  flout  in 
silks  and  jewelry,  satins  and  feathers ;  while  others  are  more 
humble  and  less  showy.  The  great  majority  of  them  are  young 
and  handsome — noble-looking.  0  !  it  is  sickening  to  see  those 
forsaken  outcasts,  as  they  perambulate  the  streets,  using  their  arts 
to  fascinate  such  as  cross  their  path.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
evening,  they  are  cautious  and  ladylike  in  their  every  movement ; 
but,  when  the  clock  points  to  eleven,  they  become  bold  and 
shameless.  Their  degradation  is  awful,  and  they  stop  at  nothing. 
I  cannot  think  they  act  as  they  do  from  choice,  but  from  necessity. 
They  will  throw  their  arms  around  a  man,  and  plead  with  him  for 
his  company.  Persuasion,  smiles,  lasciviousness — every  device  is 
tried  to  induce  those  they  meet  to  follow  them.     If  they  find  their 

29* 


342  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGOWAY; 

eloquence  fail  of  that  end,  then  they  ask  for  a  few  pence  whereby 
to  purchase  a  glass  of  gin  to  drown  their  sorrow.  They  assume 
cheerfulness  and  gayety  when  their  hearts  are  leadlike  with  woe ; 
and  their  forced  smiles  and  hysterical  laughter  prove  their  misery 
of  soul.  Night  after  night  they  follow  their  unholy  trade ;  up 
one  street,  and  down  another — now  in  a  gin-palace,  inhaling  the 
poisonous  beverage,  and  now  pacing  the  pavement  with  weary 
limbs  and  aching  heart  j  and  thus  continue  until  the  gray  gleams 
of  morning  flash  along  the  eastern  sky.  They  are  forsaken  and 
fallen — outcasts  and  harlots — but  still  women ;  and  I  shuddered 
when  I  beheld  them  in  their  shame.  Some  men  in  this  world 
have  sins  to  atone  for,  and  the  worst  one  is  the  betrayal  of  woman. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

DINING  or  THE  BLUE  COAT  SCHOOL-BOYS — DUKE  OP  WELLINGTON 
— MECHANICS — TRADESMEN — SOCIALISTS. 

The  attractions  of  London  are  so  numerous,  that  no  one  can 
notice  them  in  regular  order,  and  therefore  it  is  useless  to  try.  I 
somewhere  before  alluded  to  the  Blue  Coat  School,  but  not  in  de- 
tail ;  and  as  it  is  one  of  the  many  really  interesting  objects  in  the 
metropolis,  I  may  here  devote  a  short  space  to  it,  at  the  risk  of 
the  charge  of  being  trite.  The  buildings  in  which  the  boys  reside 
and  receive  instruction  are  off  Newgate  Street  to  the  north,  the 
principal  one  facing  that  avenue,  as  well  as  a  large  court-yard 
between  it  and  the  thoroughfare.  The  scholars  number  from 
seven  hundred  to  a  thousand,  are  from  ten  to  eighteen  years  of 
age,  and  dressed  uniformly.  Tlie  costume  is  singular,  and  at- 
tractive to  strangers,  but  by  no  means  handsome.  The  long  bluo 
coat,  reaching  down  to  the  heels,  is  the  main  feature,  and  it  is  this 
which  gives  name  to  the  school.  Many  of  the  boys  tuck  it  up 
under  their  red  leathern  girdle  when  romping  about  in  the  great 
playground,  but  all  of  them  are  proud  to  wear  it,  and  evidently. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  343 

regard  it  a  badge  of  honor,  although  there  was  a  time  in  England 
when  blue  was  a  color  no  gentleman  would  wear.  The  boys 
ramble  about  London  during  certain  hours  of  the  day  barehead, 
and,  rain  or  dry,  it  is  the  same  to  them.  The  discipline  is  not 
so  rigid  as  when  Charles  Lamb  was  a  scholar  there,  and  several 
of  the  old  customs  are  fallen  into  disuse.  The  most  interesting 
exhibitions  continued  to  this  day  are  the  boys'  participation  in 
the  service  at  Christ  Church  (the  place  of  worship  of  the  school), 
and  dining  in  public  on  Sunday.  I  went  to  the  great  hall  of  the 
institution  one  Sabbath  day  to  witness  them  dine,  and  never  was 
I  present  at  a  more  imposing  ceremony  than  that  performed  by 
the  boys  before  they  partook  of  their  meal.  The  room  is  large, 
with  a  gallery  at  the  western  end  for  spectators,  a  great  organ  at 
the  east,  and  the  walls  adorned  with  some  old  and  curious  pic- 
tures of  merit.  The  tables  are  fifteen  in  number,  and  a  female 
takes  post  at  the  head  of  each  at  the  dining  hour.  The  children 
usually  go  directly  from  the  church  to  the  hall,  and  as  the  whole 
seven  hundred  pour  into  the  room  about  the  same  time,  the  tread 
of  their  many  feet  and  the  sound  of  their  voices  commingle, 
and  absorb  all  other  noises.  After  they  have  all  entered  the 
room,  and  taken  their  places  at  the  table,  a  signal  for  quiet  is 
given,  at  which  every  murmur  is  hushed.  One  of  the  elder 
youths  reads  an  appropriate  service;  they  kneel  like  a  mighty 
host  in  prayer ;  and  then,  as  the  full  tones  of  the  powerful  organ 
roll  out  upon  the  air,  the  chorus  of  their  thousand  childish  voices 
swells  to  heaven  in  harmonious  praise.  It  is  an  impressive  ser- 
vice, and  no  spectator  can  witness  it  unmoved.  If  those  boys  of 
the  Blue  Coat  School  were  taught  nothing  else  but  that  sublime 
prayer  and  glorious  hymn,  the  institution  would  not  be  useless. 
From  the  least  to  the  greatest — from  the  youngest  to  the  oldest, 
they  all  unite,  at  the  dining-hour  of  the  Sabbath  day,  in  prai.se  to 
Him  who  reigns  on  high,  and  there  is  an  earnestness  in  their 
voices,  when  hymning  thanks  to  the  Deity,  that  bids  every  tu- 
multuous thought  be  still  in  the  breast  of  the  beholder. 

After  the  ceremony  is  performed,  the  meal  is  served  in  nearly 
the  same  manner  in  which  it  was  usual  to  serve  it  three  centuries 
ago.     The  meat  is  in  wooden   trenchers,  the  beer  poured  from 


344 

leathern  black  jacks  into  wooden  piggins,  and  the  potatoes  are 
cooked  with  the  skins  on.  The  plates  are  of  a  particular  pattern, 
the  food  plain,  the  bread  being  in  rolls,  and  served  from  large 
baskets.  The  strictest  decorum  characterizes  all,  and  the  dining 
of  the  Blue  Coat  Boys  on  Sunday  is  among  the  most  instructive 
and  agreeable  sights  in  London. 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  was  one  of  the  few  men  who  excited 
the  curiosity  of  strangers  in  England.  His  renown  made  him  an 
object  of  interest,  and  foreigners  eagerly  sought  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  him.  I  had  been  in  the  metropolis  on  several  occasions, 
at  each  of  which  periods  I  made  exertions  to  get  a  look  at  the 
hero,  but  without  success,  until  March,  1852,  when  by  mere  acci- 
dent I  met  him  near  Charing  Cross,  on  his  way  to  the  Horse 
Guards,  a  place  he  visited  frequently,  on  official  business.  From 
my  childhood  I  entertained  opinions  averse  to  the  personal  at- 
tractions of  Wellington,  solely  on  account  of  the  published  pic- 
tures of  him,  in  which  the  nose  is  represented  so  prominently. 
The  portraits  do  not  give  that  feature  breadth  sufficient  at  the 
nostrils,  and  consequently  the  physiognomist  notices  a  deficiency 
in  calculation  that  it  is  difficult  to  account  for  in  a  man  so  famous 
as  Wellington  was  for  forethought  and  skilful  investigation.  The 
artists  too  often  exaggerated  the  prominence,  but  never  the  width 
of  that  most  singular  feature  of  the  "  Iron  Duke.'*  When  I  saw 
him  he  was  on  horseback,  followed  by  a  servant  mounted,  and 
trotted  slowly  along,  occasionally  returning  the  salutations  of  the 
people  as  he  passed.  He  was  dressed  in  a  plain  suit  of  blue  cloth, 
rode  with  ease,  but  bent  forward  considerably  from  ago.  His 
appearance  was  that  of  a  quiet,  sensible  old  man,  who  had  ex- 
hausted the  honors  of  the  world,  and  was  cheerfully  journeying 
to  the  grave.  His  eye  was  bright,  his  countenance  furrowed  but 
calm,  and  he  was  to  me  the  very  best  specimen  of  the  affluent, 
contented,  old  English  gentleman  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  see 
in  Great  Britain.  His  nose  agreeably  disappointed  mo,  as  its 
breadth  at  the  nostrils  fully  satisfied  me  that  he  was,  in  fact,  what 
fame  and  his  deeds  proclaimed  him,  and  not  what  pictures  led 
those  personally  unacquainted  with  his  foatares  to  consider  him. 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  345 

I  liked  the  great  man  mucb,  and  dismissed  mj  prejudices  against 
him  as  soon  as  my  eyes  beheld  his  face.  He  was  a  greater  object 
of  interest  than  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  almost  any  man  would 
have  called  him  great  without  knowing  who  he  was.  His  ap- 
pearance indicated  good  living,  and,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  ex- 
press an  opinion  from  his  countenance,  he  was  not  by  any  means 
a  bad  judge  of  wine.  Probably  his  campaigns  in  the  peninsula 
afforded  him  an  opportunity  of  perfecting  himself  in  deciding  as 
to  the  qualities  of  the  juice  of  the  grape,  for  he  evidently  knew 
and  loved  the  good.  But  the  grave  incloses  him  now,  and  history 
will  say  more  of  the  blood  than  of  the  wine  he  spilt,  and  more  of 
his  virtues  than  his  vices. 

The  condition  and  manner  of  living  of  the  mechanics  of  Lon- 
don are  subjects  worthy  of  note,  and  if  accurately  described, 
interesting.  During  my  various  residences  in  the  city,  I  met  with 
families  of  that  class  with  whom  I  freely  associated,  and  had, 
therefore,  opportunities  of  observing  them  at  their  hearth-sides. 
Those  whose  acquaintance  I  made  were  of  the  better  class,  men 
of  intelligence  and  refinement,  and  some  of  them  decidedly  clever. 
Their  domestic  comforts  were  few,  and  their  mode  of  living  by 
no  means  enviable.  "Wages  are  not  so  high  in  London,  in  propor- 
tion to  rents  and  provisions,  as  they  are  in  some  of  the  provincial 
towns,  and  it  rarely  occurs  that  a  mechanic  has  his  own  house  in 
the  metropolis.  They  usually  live  in  lodgings,  that  is,  two  or 
three  rooms  in  some  large  building,  in  which  a  number  of  families 
are  quartered,  and  their  furniture  is  comprised  in  a  case  of  drawers, 
beds  for  the  accommodation  of  all,  and  the  requisite  chairs,  car- 
pets, and  tables.  Thus  packed  in  a  contracted  space,  they  live 
without  being  able  to  enjoy  domestic  seclusion,  and  cannot  be  said 
to  have  what  every  Englishman  calls  his  castle — a  house ;  but 
only  a  small  portion  of  one.  The  young,  or  single  men,  generally 
have  a  room  which  they  furnish  to  their  taste,  or  bargain  for 
furnished,  and  in  that  they  live,  or  rather  lodge,  for  many  of  them 
obtain  their  meals  at  coffee-houses  and  other  places  of  resort. 
Some  do  their  own  cooking  in  their  apartments,  and  thus  live 


846  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  highway; 

economically.  They  dwell  apart  from  their  landlords,  and  rarely 
enjoy  that  semi-home  known  among  us  as  a  boarding  house.  The 
system  is  productive  of  much  evil,  and  leads  many  young  men 
into  habits  of  dissipation  and  immorality.  It  may  be  set  down 
as  a  fact,  without  fear  of  contradiction,  that  not  one  journeyman 
mechanic  in  London  out  of  fifty  has  a  house  to  himself.  They 
either  rent  rooms  out  to  others,  or  from  others;  and  the  stranger, 
in  rambling  about  the  city,  will  notice  "  lodgings  to  let"  in  nearly 
every  house  of  moderate  size  in  those  sections  where  the  artisans 
reside.  The  distinctive  classes  of  society  are  numerous,  and  there 
are  castes  among  all  occupations.  The  small  master  tradesmen 
are  above  the  workmen,  and  live,  in  many  cases,  in  comfortable, 
convenient  houses  in  the  suburbs,  in  a  style  approaching  to  ele- 
gance. It  is  among  that  class  of  people  that  the  greatest  amount 
of  happiness  is  to  be  found  in  England,  as  well  as  virtue,  and 
hospitality  to  strangers.  In  reality  they  are  the  men  of  the  realm, 
and  the  bulwark  of  the  nation.  They  are  intelligent  without  pe- 
dantry, refined  without  pomp,  and  cultivated  without  afiectation. 
Too  sensible  to  be  worshippers  of  rank,  they  admire  what  is  good 
in  their  government  without  bowing  to  what  is  vile  in  the  system, 
and  although  educated  and  reared  under  monarchical  institutions, 
by  no  means  hold  to  the  divine  right  of  kings.  Ardent  lovers  of 
their  native  land,  and  proud  of  their  country's  glory,  they  never- 
theless oppose  the  unjustifiable  use  of  its  power  against  weak  and 
inoffen.sive  nations,  and  denounce  alike  the  conquests  in  India  and 
the  shameful  encroachments  of  England  on  the  lands  of  the 
Kafl&rs  and  Hottentots.  Among  such  men  I  spent  hours  most 
agreeably,  and  never  remarked  anything  in  their  families  but 
the  most  exemplary  conduct  and  creditable  behavior.  Their 
manner  of  living  is  plain,  and  yet  some  of  their  customs  aro 
decidedly  censurable.  They  seldom  rise  before  seven,  breakfast  at 
eight  or  nine,  dine  at  two  or  three,  take  tea  at  five,  which  is  usu- 
ally a  plain  meal  of  bread  cut  into  very  thin  slices,  and  buttered, 
with  tea,  and  a  species  of  plum  or  fruit-cake.  That  is  the  favor- 
ite hour  of  gossip  among  the  women,  and  the  Chinese  beverage 
generally  sets  their  tongues  actively  to  work.  At  about  nine 
o'clock  they  foolishly  have  a  hot  supper,  which  is  out  of  all  reason 


347 

for  people  of  their  intelligence,  and  must  be  decidedly  injurious 
to  the  digestive  organs,  as  well  as  a  disturber  of  sleep.  The 
English  are  remarkably  particular  in  some  things,  and  eat  no  fruit 
unless  the  skin  is  removed — consider  it  horrible  to  bite  bread,  and 
faint  to  see  a  person  eat  pickles  with  fish ;  and  yet  they  will  gor- 
mandize from  morning  to  midnight,  swallow  hot  meats,  cheese, 
and  ale  at  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  and  then  retire  to  rest  with 
loaded  stomachs  and  bewildered  brains.  To  do  so  is  the  error  of 
the  class  I  now  speak  of,  and  about  the  only  thing  in  which  they 
imitate  the  fashion  and  folly  of  the  aristocracy.  The  routine  de- 
scribed is  peculiar  to  the  tradesmen  of  London,  and  is  pretty 
generally  practised.  The  employers  do  not  get  to  business  so 
early  as  with  us;  nor  do  they  work  so  constantly  and  late.  They 
like  the  customs  of  their  class,  and  expect  tea  at  five  o'clock  as 
regularly  as  breakfast  at  eight  in  the  morning. 

Six  winter  weeks  in  the  metropolis  afforded  me  frequent  oppor- 
tunities to  visit  such  places  as  my  inclinations  prompted,  or  chance 
presented;  and  during  that  time  I  often  mingled  in  pleasant  even- 
ing assemblages  at  the  hearth-sides  of  my  friends,  and  enjoyed 
social  and  intellectual  treats  of  an  agreeable  character.  I  was 
fortunate  in  my  acquaintance,  and  no  one  could  desire  the  friend- 
ship of  nobler  men  and  women  than  it  was  my  lot  to  pass  my 
time  with.  They  were  in  the  middle  walks  of  life — free  from 
pride — free  from  envy — free  from  rudeness.  All  intelligent,  and 
some  persons  of  superior  acquirements  and  strong  intellects. 
They  were  of  that  class  of  men  that  is  in  reality  noble,  and  of 
that  portion  of  the  English  people  that  redeems  the  national  cha- 
racter from  pride  and  vain  conceit.  They  were  moral,  refined, » 
sincere,  honorable,  and  hospitable,  and  consequently  a  credit  to 
their  country.  Some  of  them  were  socialists,  practically  and  theo- 
retically; but  the  conduct  and  lives  of  these  were  unimpeachable. 
In  fact,  although  they  made  no  profession  of  religion,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  denounced  all  systems  indiscriminately,  they  were  in 
all  the  relations  of  life  practisers  of  true  Christian  principles. 
During  an  acquaintance  of  five  mouths,  in  which  period  I  often 
visited  at  their  houses,  I  never  observed  the  slightest  rudeness  on 
the  part  of  their  children,  or  heard  a  single  indelicate  expression 


S48  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

fall  from  the  lips  of  an  individual  member.  Intellectual  improve- 
ment and  correct  deportment  were  aimed  at  by  all,  and  even  the 
little,  prattling  children  used  correct  language,  and  vied  with  each 
other  in  good  conduct  and  kindly  feeling.  The  ruling  power  was 
kindness;  and  it  was  a  potent  and  a  refining  instrument  surely. 
The  evenings  I  passed  in  the  company  of  those  to  whom  I  refer 
will  never  be  erased  from  my  mind;  and  although  some  may  doubt 
my  statements  in  respect  to  these  practical  socialists,  and  pretend 
to  regard  me  as  an  advocate  of  the  social  system,  and  over-warm 
in  my  admiration  of  it,  I  hero  most  decidedly  declare  my  oppo- 
sition to  the  doctrine;  but,  at  the  same  time,  as  a  candid  and 
truthful  man,  must  say  that,  wherever  I  visited  in  the  families 
of  English  socialists  of  intelligence,  I  observed  the  most  exem- 
plary conduct,  and  an  amability  of  character  and  a  charity  for 
the  degraded  and  fallen  of  our  race  that  would  put  to  the  blush 
one-half,  at  least,  of  the  professed  followers  of  Jesus.  Those  who 
arc  familiar  with  the  workings  of  socialism  may  be  able  to  trace 
the  eflfect,  recorded  above,  to  causes  foreign  to  socialist  doctrines; 
but  whether  they  will  or  not,  I  am  willing  to  bear  my  testimony 
to  the  facts  as  stated,  and  to  believe  them  the  result  of  proper 
training  and  solid  education.  Of  the  socialists  I  met  in  London, 
and  became  intimate  with,  there  was  not  ono  in  whom  I  would 
not  repose  the  most  implicit  confidence. 

On  the  12th  of  December,  1851,  I  wrote  thus  in  my  journal, 
and  transcribe  it  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  narration  :  This 
morning  we  have  a  regular  old-fashioned  London  fog — thick, 
jnurky,  dull.  "  have  just  returned  from  a  walk  through  it,  and 
can  speak  feelingly  of  its  density.  There's  no  sky,  no  sun,  no 
daylight.  I  passed  along  St.  Martin's-lo-Orand,  but  could  not 
see  the  post-ofl&ce  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way.  Cheapside 
was  !«..  vii  obscurity  and  omnibuses;  and  St.  Paul's  churchyard 
full  of  phantoms.  The  gas  was  burning  in  the  shops  and  street 
lamps,  and  things  looked  to  me  like  the  works  of  a  dream.  As 
I  stw  ■]  at  the  side  of  St.  Paul's,  I  tried  to  catch  a  sight  of  its 
form,  but  in  vain.  I  could  see  the  iron  railing  over  the  way,  but 
the  grand  cathedral  was  entirely  veiled  from  view.     Every  spot 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  349 

was  alike.  I  could  see  about  ten  feet  ahead  of  me,  but  beyond 
that  all  was  misty  and  impenetrable  to  the  eye.  The  people 
moved  along  noiselessly  and  quick,  like  figures  in  a  dream — now 
in  sight,  the  next  instant  lost  to  observation.  As  I  descended 
Ludgate  Hill,  a  caravan  of  omnibuses  was  going  toward  St.  Paul's, 
and  the  three  or  four  that  I  could  see  at  a  time  appeared  as  if 
they  were  moving  through  the  clouds.  The  outside  passengers 
of  the  foremost  were  scarcely  visible,  and  those  of  the  others  were 
only  distinguishable  through  the  fog  by  their  dark  clothing,  and 
by  the  fact  of  their  being  much  above  the  densest  portion  of  the 
mist.  I  continued  on  down  to  Faringdon  Street,  and,  turning  into 
it,  passed  over  to  Blackfriars  Bridge,  where  I  found  the  lamps 
lighted  and  a  tide  of  people.  The  river  was  not  to  be  seen,  and 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could  distinguish  the  outline  of  the 
opposite  side  of  the  carriage  way.  It  was  not  night — it  was  not 
day,  and  yet  it  appeared  like  a  combination  of  the  two.  The  air 
was  thick  with  smoke  as  well  as  fog,  and  the  black  flakes  of  soot 
emitted  by  London  chimneys  settled  on  the  ground  and  floated 
through  the  atmosphere.  I  was  content  to  be  an  observer,  and 
asked  no  questions,  but  retraced  my  steps,  and  continued  down 
Fleet  Street  to  Temple  Bar;  but  it  was  all  the  same,  go  where  I 
would.  The  beggars  had  ceased  to  implore  alms,  the  itinerant 
tradesmen  to  solicit  custom.  Every  one  seemed  disposed  to  silence, 
and  if  I  cast  a  glance  in  at  a  shop  window  it  was  to  see  the  sales- 
men working  by  gas-light  like  phantoms;  and  to  walk  the  street 
was  no  easy  matter.  The  pavements  were  thick  with  greasy 
mud,  and  a  man  had  almost  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  keep  up- 
right. Running  against  one  another  was  a  common  occurrence, 
and  not  an  agreeable  one  at  that.  But  no  one  scolded,  and  each 
appeared  determined  to  get  a  harbor  as  quick  as  possible.  Nor 
are  things  changed  now,  at  twelve  o'clock.  From  where  I  sit  I 
can  just  manage  to  see  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  am 
writing  by  gas-light.  This  will  give  some  idea  of  a  London  fog 
— a  sort  of  blanket  atmosphere  thrown  over  the  city  to  generate 
colds,  consumption,  and  rheumatism.  It  will  do  very  well  to  look 
at  once,  but  to  be  for  a  month  continually  dwelliug  in  it  won't 
answer  at  all.  There  is  some  sport  in  ploughing  your  way  through 
30 


850  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

it  the  first  time,  but  you  soon  get  satisfied,  and  are  content  to 
find  your  way  into  a  cheerful  parlor  along-side  of  a  comfortable  fire, 
where  you  can  look  through  the  window,  and  see  the  mist  without 
feeling  its  damp  breath.  There's  no  use  to  go  looking  at  "  mag- 
nificent buildings"  where  it  prevails,  and  as  for  a  walk  in  the 
parks,  if  you  happen  to  get  into  one,  you  will  be  wonderfully  lucky 
if  you  find  your  way  out  short  of  three  or  four  hours.  There  you 
lose  the  latitude,  and  longitude,  and  all  the  landmarks  are  ob- 
scured, and  there  is  considerable  diflficulty  in  finding  a  policeman 
to  direct  you  the  proper  course.  Take  it  all  in  all,  a  London  fog 
is  a  poser  and  a  mysterious  thing — a  damper  to  the  spirits,  and  a 
generator  of  disease — a  villanous  compound  of  noxious  gases, 
and  a  very  plague;  and  I'll  have  no  more  of  it. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

CAMBRIDGE  AND  ITS  UNIVERSITY — THE  EASTERN  COUNTIES. 

The  railways  of  England  soon  whirl  a  man  from  the  smoke  of 
London  into  the  broad  fields  of  the  country,  and  in  an  hour  or  two 
one  can  be  set  down  miles  away  from  the  metropolis.  My  time, 
for  six  weeks,  had  passed  very  agreeably  in  the  city;  but,  as  there 
were  unexplored  fields  before  me,  I  determined  to  visit  them,  and 
directed  my  course  to  the  eastern  counties  and  the  University  of 
Cambridge.  The  train  soon  left  the  capital  behind,  and  on  we 
dashed  through  a  low  level  country,  intersected  by  canals  and 
sluices,  farms  and  villages,  streams  and  turnpike  roads.  The 
hedges  were  bare,  but  the  fields  green,  and,  although  midwinter, 
the  atmosphere  and  landscape  gave  no  evidence  of  the  frosty 
breath  of  the  season,  except  the  absence  of  foliage  from  the  trees. 
The  waters  were  unfrozen,  and  it  was  a  diflScult  thing  to  convinoo 
myself  that  this  was  an  English  winter.  The  day  of  heavy  deep 
snows  has  passed  in  Britain,  and  the  reader  of  Irving's  graphic 
descriptions  of  Christmas  weather  in  England  can  never,  with 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  351 

reason,  expect  to  see  those  descriptions  realized,  either  in  the  cold- 
ness of  the  season  or  the  cheer  of  the  time.  The  spirit  of  the  age 
has  swept  away  the  festivities  of  old,  and  aside  from  the  dinner, 
and  the  pleasant  custom  of  kissing  ruby  lips  under  the  mistletoe, 
there  is  nothing  of  the  glory  of  the  ancient  Christmas  time  remain- 
ing in  the  land  of  roast  beef  and  homebrewed  ale. 

We  passed  hamlets  at  a  distance,  and  the  square  towers  of  the 
old  churches  peeped  from  among  ivy  and  leafless  boughs,  and  pre- 
sented a  solemn  appearance  to  the  eye.  Several  places  of  note 
lay  on  the  route,  but  no  time  was  allowed  for  close  observation, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  be  content  with  a  rapid  glance  at  Waltham 
Abbey,  the  burial-place  of  Harold,  and  a  distant  prospect  of  the 
famous  parish  church  of  Safi'ron  Walden,  with  its  tall  and  grace- 
ful spire,  the  highest  in  the  county  of  Essex.  The  sun  had  sunk 
to  rest  ere  we  reached  the  celebrated  seat  of  learning,  and  when  I 
alighted  from  the  carriage,  a  clear  bright  crescent  moon  was  shin- 
ing on  the  earth,  with  more  than  Turkish  serenity,  from  among  a 
host  of  dazzling  constellations.  I  sauntered  slowly  into  the  town, 
sought  out  a  comfortable  inn,  where  I  met  a  number  of  gentle- 
manly fellows,  and  then  rambled  about  the  place,  peering  into  the 
court-yards  of  the  colleges,  or  admiring  the  fine  Gothic  buildings 
in  the  pale  light  of  a  silver  moon.  The  avenues  were  alive  with 
pedestrians,  but,  save  the  footfalls  of  the  busy  citizens,  or  the 
slow  leisurely  tread  of  the  robed  and  square-capped  students,  there 
were  no  sounds  to  disturb  the  quiet  of  the  collegiate  city.  The 
pilgrims  to  the  wells  of  learning  were  more  numerous  than  the 
plain  denizens ;  but  I  was  surprised  to  see  so  large  a  number  of 
fallen  women  as  was  following  the  footsteps  of  the  scholars.  Pros- 
titution is  one  of  the  curses  of  University  towns,  and  one  of  the 
most  fearful  of  the  snares  that  beset  the  young  and  inexperienced 
seeker  after  knowledge  at  the  English  colleges ;  and  Cambridge 
is  said  to  contain  more  lewd  females  than  any  other  place  of 
equal  size  in  Great  Britain.  They  literally  swarm  its  streets  at 
night,  and  it  requires  the  most  rigid  rules  and  careful  police  re- 
gulations to  keep  them  within  the  bounds  of  common  decency. 
They  gaze  lasciviously  upon  every  male  they  meet,  and  invite 
attention  by  every  artifice  known  to  their  sex,  and  seldom  let  a 


352  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

person  escape  them  until  they  have  exhausted  their  entire  stock 
of  scheming  to  entrap  him. 

A  clear  bright  day  is  a  godsend  to  the  sight-seer  in  any  place, 
and  to  the  stranger  in  Cambridge  nothing  can  be  so  favorable  for 
his  purposes  of  observation.  The  colleges  attached  to  the  Uni- 
versity number  seventeen,  and  some  of  them  are  noble  edifices. 
The  most  renowned  is  Trinity,  the  Alma  Mater  of  many  of  Eng- 
land's celebrated  authors,  among  whom  may  be  enumerated 
Newton,  Coke,  Bacon,  Donne,  Herbert,  Cowley,  Dryden,  and 
Byron.  The  majority  of  the  edifices  lie  on  the  banks  of  the  Cam, 
and  all  have  spacious  grounds  attached  to  them,  the  greater  part 
of  which  are  beautifully  laid  out  and  ornamented  with  rows  of 
stately  elms,  groves  of  oak,  and  wide  shaded  avenues.  The  river 
flows  noiselessly  through  these  splendid  parks,  and  the  halls  of 
classic  learning  repose  on  the  banks  of  the  famous  stream  in  stately 
dignity,  bearing  in  their  every  feature  the  secluded  characteristics 
of  the  houses  of  knowledge.  In  my  rambles  around  these  college 
inclosures,  I  frequently  met  studious  young  men,  with  book  in 
hand  and  eyes  intently  bent  upon  a  favorite  page,  slowly  saunter- 
ing under  the  leafless  trees,  regardless  of  the  curious  passer-by. 
Deep  thought  was  traceable  in  many  a  countenance,  and  the  intens- 
ity with  which  some  studied  was  a  proof  to  me  that  aspirations 
to  be  great  filled  the  hearts  of  the  pale  students,  and  visions  of 
future  renown  prompted  them  to  increased  diligence  in  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge.  There  stood  one  against  the  trunk  of  a  stately  elm, 
clasping  in  his  hand  a  Greek  or  Latin  tome;  another  paced  the 
shores  of  "  revered  Cam,"  where,  of  yore, 

'•The  melancholy  Cowley  lay;" 

* 

and,  as  the  breeze  of  winter  moaned  and  whistled  through  the 
leafless  branches  over  his  head,  ho  heeded  it  not,  but  drank  in  the 
rich  draught  of  learning.  I  envied  those  young  fellows,  and  longed 
to  be  a  participant  in  their  delights.  The  splendid  parks  are  so 
admirably  designed  for  the  purposes  to  which  they  are  applied, 
and  the  old  halls  so  classic  in  their  appearance,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  learning  fulls  unsought  like  a  mantle  upon  the  student  who 
is  fortunate  enough  to  be  an  inmate  of  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge. 


353 

When  the  day  had  somewhat  advanced,  I  entered  the  great 
court-yard  of  Trinity  College,  and,  procuring  the  services  of  an 
intelligent  guide,  traversed  the  principal  halls  of  the  old  pile.  I 
visited  the  great  dining-room,  an  apartment  adorned  with  portraits 
of  distinguished  English  scholars,  and  passing  from  it  entered 
the  grand  library  of  the  college  where  Thorwaldsen's  splendid 
statue  of  Byron  stands  conspicuously.  It  is  a  noble  production 
of  the  chisel,  and  the  great  Swedish  artist  has  thrown  into  the 
speechless  marble  of  Carrara  the  very  semblance  of  the  wayward 
bard.  The  figure  is  in  an  easy  sitting  posture,  resting  one  elbow 
on  a  number  of  volumes,  while  the  right  hand  holds  a  crayon 
carelessly  in  the  fingers,  one  end  of  which  is  against  the  chin,  and 
the  eyes  upraised  as  if  the  soul  were  drinking  in  the  sweetest  in- 
spiration. The  whole  aspect  of  the  figure  is  extremely  youthful ; 
but  the  librarian,  who  knew  Byron,  informed  me  that  it  is  re- 
markably like  the  great  bard,  both  in  form  and  expression  of  face. 
The  body  is  clothed  in  modern  costume,  with  a  single-breasted 
frock-coat,  buttoned  carelessly  across  the  chest,  so  as  to  leave  the 
throat  exposed;  and  over  the  shoulders  is  a  loose  mantle,  which 
falls  in  graceful  folds  around  the  form  and  feet  of  the  figure.  The 
expression  of  the  countenance  is  angelic,  and  the  dullest  mind 
would  experience  pleasure  in  contemplating  it.  Aside  from  the 
subject  from  which  it  originated,  the  statue  is  sublime,  and  when 
the  beholder  reflects  that  it  is  a  faithful  representation  of  the 
erratic  and  wonderful  author  of  "  Don  Juan,"  he  stands  in  admira- 
tion of  the  intellectual  and  personal  beauty  of  the  man.  Such 
figures  as  that  of  Byron  are  worthy  of  immortal  marble,  and  gene- 
rations yet  to  come  will  gaze  with  delight  upon  the  petrified  form 
of  the  bard  left  us  by  the  genius  of  Thorwaldsen. 

There  are  other  productions  of  the  chisel  in  the  room,  but  none 
of  them  deserve  particular  mention.  There  is  one  object,  how- 
ever, of  the  greatest  interest  to  the  lover  of  the  sublime  in  litera- 
ture, and  that  is  the  original*  of  '^Paradise  Lost"  in  Milton's  own 

*  A  correspondent  of  tlie  "  New  York  Courier  and  Inquirer,"  in  which 
journal  this  chapter  was  published  in  letter  form,  raised  a  doubt  as  to  the 
existence  of  the  MS.  alluded  to,  and,  after  quoting  from  the  third  book  of 

80* 


354  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHWAY; 

handwriting.  It  is  preserved  with  the  greatest  care,  under  a 
glass  case.     I  was  not  aware  that  it  was  in  the  place  until  my 

"  Paradise  Lost,"  Bome  lines  in  wliich  the  poet  makes  mention  of  his 
blindness,  closed  his  communication  with  this  confident  interrogation  : — 

'*  Now,  gentlemen,  do  you  think  that  your  correspondent  saw  the  *  ori- 
ginal of  "  Paradise  Lost"  in  Milton's  own  handwriting?'  " 

To  which  the  editors  of  the  "Courier"  replied  as  follows: — 

**In  spite  of  the  views  presented  by  our  correspondent,  and  of  his  tri- 
umphant query,  we  do  think  that  '  Pedestrian'  saw  the  original  of  ♦  Para- 
dise Lost'  in  Milton's  own  handwriting.  *  Pedestrian's'  assertion  that  he 
he  did  so  would  be  very  satisfactory  to  us  upon  the  point,  if  not  perfectly 
conclusive,  even  if  it  were  not  entirely  consistent  with  the  recorded  facts 
in  the  case.  *  A  Subscriber'  seems  to  take  it  for  granted  that,  because 
Milton  was  blind  during  the  composition  of  a  part  of  'Paradise  Lost,'  he 
was  so  during  the  composition  of  the  whole  of  it ;  and  also  to  be  ignorant 
of  the  fact  that  Milton's  great  poem  was  written  first  in  the  form  of  a  Dra- 
matic Mystery.  Such,  however,  was  the  case.  It  was  written  twice  thus 
by  his  own  hand :  and  then,  abandoning  that  plan,  he  was  ten  years  in 
writing  the  Epic  as  we  now  have  it.  A  perfect  manuscript  copy  of  this 
epic  Milton  showed  to  El  wood  the  Quaker  in  1GH5,  taking  it  out  of  a 
bureau  where  it  had  probably  lain  completed  for  some  time.  Now,  as 
Milton  was  not  blind  until  1G52,  or  perhaps  1G54,  it  is  very  evident  that 
the  original  of  *  Paradise  Lost'  must  have  been  composed  when  he  had 
the  full  use  of  his  eyes. 

'<But  as  to  the  existence  of  the  MS.,  the  following  from  Mitford's  'Life 
of  Milton,'  Pickering's  edition,  is  conclusive : — 

♦*  <  Milton  describes  himself  as  long  choosing,  and  beginning  late  the 
subject  of  his  poem ;  and  when  that  was  selected,  it  was  at  first  wrought 
into  a  dramatic  form,  like  some  of  the  ancient  Mysteries.  There  were 
two  plans  of  the  tragedy,  both  of  which  are  preservctl  among  the  manu- 
scripts at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.' 

"The  noble  apostrophe  to  light  in  which  the  allusion  to  the  poet's  blind- 
ness occurs  was  probably  not  included  in  the  first  plan  of  the  poem  ;  at 
least,  it  does  not  follow  of  necessity  that  it  was,  imd  the  allusion  itself 
was  certainly  an  after-thought.  Some  have  found  in  the  third  book  which 
this  apostrophe  opens,  an  internal  evidence  of  Milton's  blindness,  aside 
from  his  direct  assertion.  They  reason  thus.  Milton's  early  poems 
show,  in  their  descriptions  of  nature,  a  strong  feeling  for  color,  which  is 
comparatively  wanting  in  the  description  of  Paradise  in  this  book  :  this 
was  the  result  of  the  blindness  of  the  writer,  in  whose  memory  the  glow 
of  nature  had  faded  out.     We  think  not  thus.     Milton  had  merely  passed 


OR;  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  355 

attention  was  directed  to  it  by  the  librarian ;  and  even  the  contem- 
plation of  the  penmanship  of  the  illustrious  poet  was  a  gratifica- 
tion. The  chirography  is  exceedingly  good  and  quite  distinct, 
although  somewhat  cramped,  as  if  the  author  wrote  with  the  side 
of  the  pen.  The  poem  of  "  Lycidas,"  one  of  Milton's  most  beauti- 
ful minor  productions,  occupies  the  page  facing  the  title  of  "  Para- 
dise Lost,''  and  a  person  accustomed  to  MS.  can  read  every  word 
of  it  with  ease.  Another  great  curiosity  is  Newton's  telescope, 
said  to  have  been  manufactured  under  his  immediate  superintend- 
ence, and  the  instrument  by  aid  of  which  he  was  enabled  to 
observe  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  It  is  an  ungainly 
object,  and  contrasts  unfavorably  with  the  splendid  telescopes  of 
our  day. 

Nearly  all  the  colleges  are  Gothic  structures,  quadrangular  in 
form ;  and  some  of  them  have  several  court-yards  within  their 
limits.  St.  John's  is  a  grand  old  place,  and  lies  on  both  sides  of 
the  famous  Cam,  the  most  imposing  part,  however,  being  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  stream  from  the  majority  of  the  buildings. 

from  youth  to  age ;  his  sensuous  notions  were  dulled,  while  his  mental 
powers  were  in  their  full  activity.  Now,  color  embodies  no  thought,  and 
gives  but  little  aid  in  exciting  sentiment :  its  ofi&ce  is  almost  purely  that 
of  bestowing  sensuous  pleasure.  Milton,  like  other  artists,  felt  this, 
even  if  he  did  not  assert  it  directly  to  himself ;  and  hence  the  mere  effects 
of  color  were  comparatively  slighted  by  him,  in  his  picture  of  the  earthly 
Paradise.  Light  and  shade  have  not  these  sensuous  (we  say  not  sen- 
sual) offices.  Their  office,  being  connected  with  the  idea  of  form  and  re- 
lation, is  one  of  thought  and  sentiment ;  and  hence  they  are  strongly  used 
by  Milton  throughout  his  work,  which  is  one  of  consummate  and  con- 
scious art.  The  strength  with  which  he  opposes  them  was  a  result  of  his 
blindness.  His  word-painting  of  material  objects  was  from  the  model 
furnished  by  a  memory  of  forever-lost  glories  of  day;  and  these,  by 
poignant  regret,  could  not  but  have  been  enhanced  to  the  mental  chiaro 
scuro  of  Rembrandt.  The  same  moral  reason  would  have  insured  a  more 
glowing  picture  of  the  colors  of  his  Paradise,  had  he  not  learned  by  age 
and  an  entirely  reflective  life  to  rate  low  the  mere  sensuous  pleasure  be- 
stowed by  color." 

I  give  the  remarks  entire,  as  they  are  valuable  for  the  information  they 
contain,  and  a  proof  positive  of  my  declaration  that  I  did  "see  the  ori- 
ginal of  '  Paradise  Lost'  in  Milton's  own  handwriting." 


356  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  J 

The  front  of  this  edifice  is  really  noble,  and  may  not  unjustly  be 
called  the  finest  structure  in  Cambridge  for  purely  college  pur- 
poses. The  two  sections  have  communication  by  means  of  a  deli- 
cate bridge  across  the  Cam,  which  is  romantically  named  the  Bridge 
of  Sighs,  in  consequence  of  its  being  a  copy  of  the  celebrated 
Venetian  structure  of  that  name.  It  was  at  St.  John's  that 
Henry  Kirke  White  died  while  a  student  there,  and  he  lies 
buried  in  the  Church  of  All-Saints  near  by,  where  there  is  a 
beautiful  tribute  to  his  memory  from  the  chisel  of  Chantrey, 
erected  at  the  expense  of  an  American  gentleman  from  Boston. 
King's  College  Chapel  is  the  most  gorgeous  sacred  edifice  in  the 
city,  and  surpasses  every  religious  structure  that  Oxford  can  boast, 
in  elaborate  ornament  and  delicate  finish.  The  interior  is  300 
feet  long,  but  the  width  does  not  appear  suflficient  for  the  length. 
The  roof  is  sustained  and  ornamented  by  fretted  fun-tracery,  sup- 
ported by  clustered  vaulting  shafts,  which  spring  from  corbels  in 
the  walls,  the  whole  being  eighty  feet  high  from  the  floor.  The 
windows  are  of  richly  stained  glass,  representing  scriptural  subjects, 
and  the  ante-chapel  walls  are  ornamented  with  arms  in  marble, 
formed  of  the  crown  and  roses,  having  reference  to  the  union  of 
the  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster.  The  floor  is  inlaid  with  black 
and  white  marble,  and  the  stalls  are  of  carved  oak.  Between  the 
ante-chapel  and  the  main  portion  of  the  edifice  stands  a  rich  oak 
screen,  but  not  so  high  as  to  obstruct  the  view  from  end  to  end  of 
the  building.  It  is  said  to  be  the  gift  of  Anne  Bolcyn  to  the 
College,  and  contains  the  royal  arms  in  several  places,  with  the 
initials  H.  and  A.  in  large  characters.  The  view  from  the  leads 
is  picturesque  in  the  extreme,  and  the  eye  takes  in  at  a  glance 
the  quaint  old  city,  and  its  numerous  seats  of  learning.  These 
stately  edifices  meet  the  beholder  at  every  turn,  and  their  Gothic 
pinnacles  and  massive  towers  stand  like  lofty  sentinels  watching 
over  the  court-yards  below,  and  the  suburban-like  city.  A  visit 
to  one  or  two  of  the  larger  colleges  gives  the  observer  an  idea  of 
all,  and  an  examination  of  the  exterior  of  the  smaller  ones,  after 
viewing  the  interior  of  the  larger,  is  sufficient  for  the  stranger. 
There  are  schools,  besides  those  nientioued,  worthy  of  attention, 
and  Christ's  ColK^ge  is  one  of  them,  being  the  place  in  which 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  357 

Milton  received  his  education.  The  gardens  are  beautiful,  and 
there  is  a  mulberry-tree  in  the  ground  said  to  have  been  planted 
by  the  author  of  "  Paradise  Lost."  It  is  preserved  with  care,  and 
held  in  reverence ;  and  I  was  told  that  it  was  customary,  when  a 
bough  falls  oflf,  to  apportion  it  among  the  fellows,  to  be  by  them 
kept  as  a  sacred  memento  of  Milton.  The  trunk  is  so  much 
decayed  as  to  require  to  be  banked  up  with  earth  to  the  first 
branches,  and  there  is  every  appearance  of  its  soon  dying. 

The  town  of  Cambridge  is  different,  in  general,  from  Oxford, 
and  not  so  compact  as  that  city.  It  is  favored  with  finer  walks 
and  pleasure-grounds,  but  does  not  possess  the  solid,  sombre, 
Gothic  character  so  peculiar  to  Oxford.  There  are  some  modern 
edifices  in  it  of  fine  dimensions  and  architectural  beauty,  the  most 
finished  of  which  is  the  Fitzwilliam  Museum,  a  noble  structure. 
It  contains,  among  other  objects  of  interest,  a  splendid  collection 
of  pictures,  the  works  of  the  old  masters,  among  which  are  seve- 
ral exquisite  Claudes. 

A  market-day  occurred  during  my  sojourn  in  Cambridge,  and 
I  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  throngs  that  filled  the 
market-place,  but  saw  little  in  the  general  appearance  of  the 
people  different  from  what  is  presented  on  similar  occasions  in 
other  towns.  The  rustics  were  a  stupid,  clownish  set,  and  far 
from  intelligent.  Some  of  those  with  whom  I  conversed  told  me 
that  they  were  farm-hands,  and  complained  of  the  want  of  em- 
ployment, stating  that  when  they  could  get  work  they  seldom 
earned  over  seven  shillings  per  week,  and  that  did  not  support 
their  families.  In  the  winter  season,  when  they  have  but  little 
or  nothing  to  do,  it  is  with  difficulty  that  they  manage  to  live.  A 
shilling  a  day  is  the  usual  wages,  and  not  one  in  five  has  constant 
employment  at  that  miserable  pittance  during  the  cold  weather. 
One  man  told  me  that  he  had  not  eaten  a  piece  of  meat  for  four 
months,  and  lived  on  oatmeal  bread,  cheese,  and  ale.  He  did  not 
have  a  healthy  look,  nor  could  it  be  expected  that  he  would  under 
such  a  regimen.  The  wealthy  student,  or  contented  tradesman, 
pays  but  little  attention  to  the  starving  rustic,  and  while  enjoying 
the  superfluities  of  life  rarely  dreams  that  his  rural  neighbors  are 


358  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

suffering  for  the  common  necessaries  of  existence,  and,  although 
called  freemen^  are  in  reality  the  slaves  of  want.  Cambridge,  of 
a  market-day,  presents  a  contrast  of  poverty  and  wealth  not  to  be 
forgotten. 

The  country,  from  the  University  city  to  Norwich,  is,  with  but 
little  exception,  quite  level  and  wet.  The  surface  is  intersected 
by  broad  drains,  constructed  to  conduct  the  waters  from  the  fens, 
and  the  villages  are  mostly  comfortless  in  appearance.  But  few 
hedges  are  to  be  seen ;  fences  of  wood  being  in  more  general  use, 
and  not  many  of  them.  The  ditches  serve  the  double  purpose, 
in  most  places,  of  fence  and  drain.  Large  windmills  abound, 
and  the  broad  arms  of  their  propelling  sails  remind  the  traveller 
of  the  heroic  exploits  of  the  famous  knight  of  La  Mancha. 
Each  establishment  presents  a  bold  front  to  the  breeze,  and  when 
the  sails  revolve,  the  beholder  from  the  Western  World  cannot 
divest  his  mind  of  the  idea  that  the  tall  tower  is  possessed  with 
life.  In  passing  through  the  country  by  rail,  I  had  no  opportu- 
nities of  close  observation,  and  was  obliged  to  be  content  with 
such  glances  at  the  landscape  as  my  situation  afforded.  We  made 
a  short  stay  at  the  cathedral  town  of  Ely,  and  had  a  good  view  of 
its  stately  fane,  one  of  the  largest  edifices  of  the  kind  in  the  country. 
It  is  on  a  commanding  elevation,  and  is  easily  seen  at  the  distance 
of  ten  miles.  Like  all  cruciform  structures,  it  stands  east  and 
west,  with  transepts  to  the  north  and  south,  but  differs  from  others 
by  having  two  towers  in  front,  and  a  massive  octagonal  lantern 
over  the  cross.  The  town  itself  has  no  pretensions  to  beauty,  and 
when  I  was  there,  was  viewed  under  decided  disadvantages.  Be- 
tween it  and  Norwich  the  land  is  low,  and  the  settlements  or 
dwellings  few.  The  country  partakes  of  the  characteristics  pecu- 
liar to  all  low,  sandy,  pine-growing  soils,  and  for  miles  houses  are 
not  to  be  seen.  The  system  of  farming  in  England  differs  from 
that  of  the  United  States,  and  it  is  only  in  certain  sections  that 
the  traveller  notices  noble  farm-houses  and  barns,  such  as  abound 
in  the  old  settled  portions  of  our  Ilcpublic.  Occasionally,  one 
sees  a  fine  hall  or  baronial  residence;  but  such  are  the  houses 
of  the  wealthy,  and  not  of  the  farmers.     Cottages  peep  out  at  in- 


359 

tervals  on  the  route,  but  not  those  the  poetess  sings  of  when  she 
breaks  forth,  in  ecstatic  strains — 

"  The  cottage  homes  of  England,  how  beautiful  they  are  !" 

For,  as  to  beauty,  they  have  none;  and  as  to  the  accompaniments 
to  that  agreeable  charm  of  a  cottage,  healthy  situation  and  com- 
fort, they  belong  to  few  of  the  rustic  homes  I  saw  in  the  rural 
districts.  The  houses  of  the  peasantry  are  wretched  tiled  or 
Btraw-thatched  hovels,  ill  ventilated,  badly  warmed,  indifferently 
lighted,  and  surrounded  by  imperfectly  drained  lands.  But  few 
of  them  appear  to  be  the  abodes  of  content;  and  if  a  person 
imagines  that  article  is  to  be  found  in  an  English  cottage,  all  he 
has  to  do  is  to  look  into  one  and  satisfy  himself. 

This  route  lay  through  the  ancient  town  of  Thetford,  famous  in 
the  days  of  the  Catholic  supremacy  for  its  numerous  churches  and 
monasteries.  The  remains  of  one  of  the  priories  form  part  of  a 
barn  at  present;  and  of  the  seventeen  or  twenty  churches  once 
contained  in  the  place,  only  three  exist  entire.  The  principal  in- 
terest the  town  has  for  the  tourist,  at  this  day,  is  the  fact  of  its 
having  been  the  birth  place  of  Tom  Paine,  the  political  and  infidel 
writer. 


CHAPTEH    XXXIX. 

NORWICH — CHURCHES — PEOPLE — ITS  TREADMILL — LOWESTOFT 
—  YARMOUTH  —  FARM  HANDS  AND  FARMERS  —  FALSTAFF's 
CASTLE — ACLE FARMING  AND  PRODUCTS — VILLAGE  PREACH- 
ERS— WHERRIES. 

Dull,  rainy  weather  is  by  no  means  calculated  to  give  a  man 
a  favorable  impression  of  any  place,  and  as  Norwich  is  one  of  the 
dirtiest  of  the  cities  of  the  kingdom,  and  does  not  show  well  even 
in  clear  weather,  it  would  not  be  just  to  describe  it  as  I  saw  it 
full  of  mud  and  dirt.     It  is  the  ancient  capital  of  Eastern  En- 


360  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

gland,  and  indifferently  built  in  a  valley  and  on  the  sides  of  a 
range  of  sand-hills  near  the  River  Wensum.  The  streets  are  the 
narrowest  it  was  ever  my  lot  to  perambulate,  and  the  footwalks  of 
some  are  not  wide  enough  to  allow  two  persons  to  walk  abreast 
with  comfort,  and  are  paved  with  round  pebbles  similar  to  those 
used  in  the  streets  of  American  cities.  There  are  but  few  modem 
edifices  in  it,  and  the  older  ones  are  in  many  instances  dilapidated, 
and  decidedly  ugly.  The  castle,  a  large,  square  Norman  structure, 
occupies  a  commanding  position  on  a  hill  in  the  centre  of  the  city, 
and  the  cathedral,  a  fine  edifice,  lies  in  the  valley  near  the  river, 
and  with  its  tall,  graceful  spire  forms  a  beautiful  ornament  to  the 
place.  Churches  are  abundant,  there  being  no  less  than  forty-two 
of  the  Establishment  alone,  besides  nearly  as  great  a  number  of 
chapels  belonging  to  the  various  sects  of  Christians.  When 
viewed  from  Castle  Hill,  the  city  is  picturesque  in  the  extreme, 
and  its  many  church  towers  give  it  the  appearance  of  an  Eastern 
town  filled  with  innumerable  mosques.  Some  of  the  churches  are 
large  and  well  built;  but  the  great  majority  of  them  are  quite 
contracted,  and  constructed  of  boulder,  or  a  mixture  of  flint  and 
stone,  which  does  not  have  a  pleasing  effect  to  the  eye.  A  large 
cattle-market  is  held  every  Saturday,  in  a  space  devoted  to  the 
purpose  on  the  Castle  Hill,  and  the  number  of  animals  sold  on 
such  days  is  great.  The  farmers  of  Norfolk  have  the  reputation 
of  raising  the  best  beef  and  mutton  in  the  kingdom,  and  the  spe- 
cimens they  exhibit  in  Norwich  are  no  discredit  to  them.  The 
cattle  are  large  and  fat,  and  the  sheep  are  the  very  perfection  of 
that  animal.  Tlic  sales  are  usually  effected  with  little  noise  or 
bustle,  and  droves  pass  from  one  owner  to  another  so  quietly  that 
a  stranger  scarcely  knows  whether  a  sale  has  been  made  or  not. 

Norwich  is  the  largest  city  in  England.  This  assertion  may 
appear  incredible  to  some  readers  who  have  London  before  their 
eyes.  But  it  must  bo  borne  in  mind  that  the  city  of  London  is 
but  a  contracted  affair,  and  if  a  man  were  to  stump  his  toe 
on  one  of  its  boundary  lines,  ho  would  most  likely  fall  into  one 
of  the  adjoining  districts.  There  are  there  a  city  proper,  and 
a  host  of  subdivisions  or  outer  sections,  while  Norwich  is  under 
one  jurisdiction  and  of  considerable  extent^  having  a  population 


ORj  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  361 

of  70.000  nearly.  Neither  Manchester  nor  Liverpool  is  a  city; 
that  name  belongs  exclusively  to  cathedral  towns,  and  is  only 
given  to  those  places  which  sustain  a  bishop. 

The  city  of  Norwich  was  walled  in  years  gone  by;  but  its  walls 
have  been  suffered  to  go  to  decay,  and  all  that  remains  of  them 
now  are  detached  fragments,  and  one  or  two  towers.  The  bridges 
over  the  Wensum  are  mean  affairs,  and  although  the  inhabitants 
will  call  one  of  them  the  ^'  Bridge  of  Sighs,''  there  is  nothing 
about  it  worthy  of  note,  except  that  it  is  anything  but  a  sizable 
bridge.  If  the  contractors  for  street-cleaning  were  compelled  to 
perform  what  they  have  agreed  to  do,  the  city  would  appear  much 
better  than  it  does;  but  it  is  believed  that  the  person  contracting 
is  a  good  fellow^  and  because  he  is  such  he  is  allowed  by  the 
authorities  to  pocket  the  people's  money,  and  permit  them  to 
clean  the  streets  themselves. 

I  noticed  fewer  beggars  in  Norwich  than  elsewhere  in  England; 
but  that  does  not  argue  the  non-existence  of  suffering  among  the 
poor.  The  agricultural  laborers  of  the  country,  adjacent  to  the 
city,  receive  a  miserable  pittance  for  their  labor,  and  the  conse- 
quence is  that  the  Union  workhouses  are  full  of  those  people  in 
the  winter  season,  when  employment  is  scarce.  The  difficulty  of 
obtaining  work  had  caused  many  men  to  abscond  from  their 
families,  and  there  were  bills  posted  up  around  Norwich  by  the 
authorities,  offering  rewards  for  the  arrest  of  certain  persons 
named  and  described,  who  had  left  their  families  chargeable  to 
the  parish.  These  posters  and  printed  descriptions  of  absconding 
married  men  reminded  me  of  handbills  announcing  runaway  ne- 
groes, and  the  manner  in  which  some  of  the  persons  were  described 
was  quite  as  full  and  particular  as  any  account  ever  given  of  a 
fugitive  from  servitude. 

The  hospitality  of  the  citizens  of  Norwich  is  proverbial,  and 
my  residence  there  was  one  of  enjoyment.  Those  with  whom  I 
associated  were  intelligent  and  liberal-minded;  tolerably  informed 
respecting  the  United  States,  and  not  blindly  prejudiced  against 
our  institutions.  They  did  not  underrate  our  rapid  progress,  nor 
profess  to  regard  us  as  savages.  I  am  satisfied  that  the  notions 
once  prevalent  in  England,  as  to  the  manners  and  habits  of  our 
31 


362 

people,  are  fast  vanishing,  and  the  stories  of  the  Trollopes,  Mar- 
tineaus,  and  Marryatts  are  no  longer  believed  bj  intelligent  peo- 
ple. The  well-informed  look  across  the  great  deep  to  our  shores 
with  high  hopes  for  the  future,  and  an  honest  pride  thrills  the 
liberal  Englishman's  heart  when  he  reflects  that  the  great  Repub- 
lic of  the  West  sprang  from  the  seed  of  Albion's  Isle.  Norwich 
sent  many  delegates  to  the  settlement  at  Plymouth  Rock,  and  the 
county  of  Norfolk  is  well  represented  by  her  descendants  in  the 
States  of  New  England.  "  Who  reads  an  American  book?"  was 
sneeringly  asked  by  a  British  critic  some  years  ago,  and  no  one 
could  answer ;  but  now  all  England  wants  to  hear  full  particulars 
respecting  the  United  States,  and  books  about  us  and  books  pro- 
duced by  us  are  to  be  met  with  in  every  well-stored  library  in  the 
land,  both  public  and  private. 

Norwich  Castle  belongs  to  the  county  of  Norfolk,  and  serves 
the  purpose  of  a  prison.  The  criminals  are  employed  at  the  use- 
ful and  intellectual  labor  of  turning  a  tread-mill  in  punishment 
for  their  crimes,  and  they  tread  upon  the  revolving  wheel  with  a 
cautious  and  slow  step,  as  if  perfectly  conscious  of  having  their 
tender  shins  barked  provided  they  don't  "  push  along,  keep  mov- 
ing." Oddly  enough  they  look  as  they  plod  their  way  over  the 
steps  of  the  tireless  wheel,  and  the  rumbling  axle  is  the  only 
music  to  which  they  march.  There  they  go,  but  never  advance, 
and  the  regularity  with  which  they  raise  their  feet  is  amuse- 
ment to  the  beholder  if  not  pleasure  to  themselves.  Before  them 
are  the  blank,  wooden  walls  ;  at  their  sides  the  partitions  which 
separate  them  ;  and  beneath  their  feet  the  moving  surface  of 
the  instrument  of  punishment.  Each  man  is  dressed  in  a  suit 
of  coarse  striped  clothing,  and  each  is  as  completely  isolated  from 
his  neighbor  as  if  he  were  treading  alone  upon  the  axle  of  the 
North  Pole.  Not  a  word  is  spoken,  not  a  murmur  heard,  nothing 
like  the  sound  of  the  "  human  voice  divine"  breaks  upon  the  ear ; 
and  so  they  live  within  hearing  of  each  other,  those  imprisoned 
men,  yet  pass  their  days  like  so  many  mutes.  The  vigilant 
keeper  never  relaxes  his  watch,  and  no  opportunity  is  afforded  for 
conversation.  It  is  a  fortunate  thing  that  all  are  men,  for  such 
a  punishment  would  be  death  to  women.     At  certain  hours  of  the 


ORj  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  db<5 

day,  they  are  allowed  a  few  minutes'  recreation,  and  pace  up  and 
down  the  yards  attached  to  the  cells,  but  no  talking  is  allowed ; 
that  is  a  crime,  and  the  imprisoned  must  submit  to  the  discipline 
of  the  place,  and  be  content  to  move  among  each  other  like  things 
devoid  of  speech.  I  think  the  system  cruel ;  but  not  so  the 
governors.  They  call  it  good,  and  say  it  produces  rich  fruits. 
No  vicious  acquaintances  are  formed ;  but  few  leave  the  prison  at 
the  same  time ;  not  one  knows  the  other's  name ;  and  they  meet 
and  separate,  not  knowing  who  or  what  the  other  is.  The  cells  are 
clean  and  comfortable,  well  lighted,  well  ventilated,  well  kept. 
But  there's  the  silence  eternal — the  solitude  of  the  grave.  A 
Bible  and  prayer-book  comprise  the  library  of  each,  and  perhaps 
from  these  some  derive  a  consolation  which  serves  them  instead 
of  companions.  The  splendid  language  of  Holy  Writ  may  de- 
light, aside  from  its  heavenly  teachings ;  but  who  is  to  tell  ?  No 
questions  are  asked,  and  no  communications  made,  and  if  pleasure 
is  the  result  of  the  reading,  it  is  known  and  felt  only  by  the 
caged  human  being  who  occupies  the  silent  cell.  Many  of  the 
inmates  of  Norwich  Castle  might,  if  they  dared,  exclaim,  in  the 
language  of  Kobinson  Crusoe,  that  they 

*'  Never  hear  the  sweet  music  of  speech, 
And  start  at  the  sound  of  their  own !" 

As  Norwich  is  a  central  station,  from  which  excursions  can 
easily  be  made  to  the  most  interesting  places  in  Norfolk,  I  con- 
verted it  into  my  head-quarters  for  a  short  time,  and  took  trips 
from  it  to  the  adjacent  country.  The  railway  and  stage  commu- 
nication existing  between  the  city  and  places  of  note  in  the  vicinity 
is  great,  and  a  man  can  readily  make  journeys  of  forty  or  fifty 
miles  and  return  in  a  day,  and  have  sufficient  time  allowed  him 
for  viewing  the  towns  he  visits.  I  went  down  to  the  coast,  and 
passed  some  hours  very  pleasantly  at  Lowestoft,  a  small  seaport 
in  Suffolk.  The  town  is  perched  upon  a  hill  overlooking  the 
German  Ocean,  and  carries  on  a  considerable  trade  with  the  mari- 
time nations  of  northern  continental  Europe,  in  addition  to  a  large 
traffic  with  London  and  the  ports  of  the  island  to  the  north. 
The  summer  season  attracts  thousands  of  pleasure-seekers  to  the 


364  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGHWAY; 

place,  and  there  are  few  finer  beaches  in  the  world  for  sea-bathing 
and  promenading  than  that  of  Lowestoft.  The  companion  of  my 
rambles  was  an  English  lady  of  most  amiable  character  and 
refined  manners,  and  withal  handsome,  vivacious,  and  intelligent. 
We  strolled  slowly  along  the  sandy  rim  of  the  restless  deep,  and, 
like  children,  gathered  the  shells  cast  up  by  the  ever-heaving  sea. 
The  surging  breakers  crashed  in  thunders  on  the  shore,  and  re- 
coiled again  into  their  yeasty  caldron,  leaving  their  white  surf 
to  sink  into  the  sand.  My  cheerful  companion  heeded  not  the 
waves,  but  her  bright  eye  sparkled  like  the  watery  pearls  flung 
to  the  winds,  and  the  breeze  of  the  ocean  developed  the  rose  of 
England  on  her  pretty  cheek.  The  sea  might  roar,  the  spray 
might  foam  and  fly,  the  wind  might  dash  the  surf  over  us,  we 
laughed  at  them  all  j  and  as  each  succeeding  wave  washed  away 
our  foot-prints  from  the  sand,  we  pressed  another  and  another  on 
the  yielding  beach,  and  joyously  as  the  waters  that  danced  before 
us,  drank  from  the  sunny  atmosphere  and  the  light  of  each  other's 
face  the  nectar  of  delight.  Some  of  England's  daughters  are  the 
perfection  of  women,  and  the  beauty  at  my  side  was  and  is  one 
of  the  most  glorious  of  her  sex.  I  was  not  mad,  nor  yet  bewitched ; 
but  just  imagine  to  yourself,  dear  reader,  the  pleasures  of  a  stroll 
along  old  ocean's  rim  with  such  a  syren  as  walked  the  sands  with 
me,  and  if  you  can  resist  an  outburst  of  deep  and  holy  feeling, 
then  I  don't  envy  you  your  nature.  It  is  a  joy  for  a  lone  stranger 
to  meet  with  pleasant  female  company  in  a  foreign  land,  and  I 
was  fortunate  in  my  acquaintance  there.  That  visit  to  Lowestoft 
will  not  soon  be  erased  from  ray  memory,  and  should  I  never 
again  tread  that  beach  I  will  often  recall  it  to  mind,  and  imagine 
myself  on  it  with  my  amiable  companion.  We  made  the  most  of 
our  time,  and  our  walks  extended  to  the  esplanade,  the  pier,  and 
the  streets  of  the  quiet  town.  From  the  cliffs  wo  had  some  fine 
prospects  of  the  sea  and  the  countless  sails  that  dotted  its  glassy 
surface.  A  fleet  of  several  hundred  vessels  was  in  sight  of  all 
sizes,  from  the  wherry  to  barks  and  fuU-riggcd  ships,  but  mostly 
craft  of  two  masts  of  the  schooner  build,  nearly  all  of  which  trade 
coastwise  or  with  the  adjacent  shores  of  Sweden,  Denmark,  and 
Holland.     The  point  of  land  on  which  Lowestoft  stands  is  one  of 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  365 

the  most  easterly  of  the  island,  and  vessels  going  either  north  or 
south  generally  pass  in  sight  of  it.  Five  hundred  sail  are  often 
seen  at  once,  and  the  ocean  then  presents  a  gay*  appearance. 
Ships  move  slowly  by,  steamers  roll  the  black  smoke  from  their 
funnels  and  glide  swiftly  on,  the  light  wherry  cleaves  the  waves 
like  a  sea-bird,  and  the  continual  change  of  position  among  the 
vessels  creates  an  exciting  scene.  The  harbor  of  the  town  is  not 
uninteresting,  and  there  can  be  seen  the  dull  sailing  Dutchman, 
the  black  collier  from  Newcastle,  and  the  sharp,  rakish  revenue 
cutter  of  her  Majesty's  customs  service.  Take  it  all  in  all,  Lowes- 
toft is  a  pleasant  place,  and  the  visitor  will  not  soon  tire  of  it. 
The  sharp  sea  breeze  improves  his  appetite,  and  if  he  be  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  have  an  intelligent  companion  with  him  he  will  not 
regret  his  trip  to  the  town. 

The  country  around  it  is  marshy  and  low — crossed  by  drains, 
and  traversed  by  streams ;  and  windmills  innumerable  are  dotted 
over  the  level  land.  These  concerns  are  used  for  pumping  water 
from  the  ditches,  and  are  almost  constantly  in  motion.  The  creak 
of  their  sails  can  be  heard  at  every  turn,  and  look  in  what 
direction  you  please,  you  see  their  broad  arms  slowly  moving 
through  the  air.  Grazing  is  the  principal  business  of  the  farmer, 
and  thousands  of  cattle  are  fed  upon  the  lands,  and  sold  to  dealers 
from  Norwich  and  London.  The  occupier  has  no  tithes  to  pay, 
and  therefore  does  not  complain  so  bitterly  about  free-trade  as  the 
farmer  who  raises  grain ;  and,  instead  of  losing  money,  generally 
amasses  considerable  of  that  very  important  and  desirable  article. 
The  rustics  get  but  a  trifle  for  their  labor,  and  it  is  a  difficult 
thing  for  one  to  say  how  they  live  on  seven  shillings  per  week, 
that  being  the  usual  wages  of  farm  hands  in  these  marshes.  The 
farmer  realizes  wealth  and  lives  comfortably,  while  the  laborer 
starves  through  years,  and  at  last  dies  in  a  "Union." 

Yarmouth,  another  seaport  within  twenty  miles  of  Norwich, 
but  ten  or  twelve  miles  to  the  north  of  Lowestoft,  is  a  famous 
place,  and  is  resorted  to  greatly  in  the  warm  season  by  sea-bathers 
and  pleasure-seekers.  It  has  a  beach  of  several  miles  in  length, 
and  c^ommands  a  splendid  ocean  view  similar  to  that  of  Lowestoft. 
It  has  more  trade  than  its  sister  port,  and  more  extensive  wharves, 

31* 


8G6  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  IIIGnWAYj 

but  does  not  appear  to  be  greatly  superior  to  it  in  otber  respects. 
The  streets  are  wide  and  tolerably  clean,  but  there  are  what  are 
called  "Rows"  running  from  the  principal  thoroughfares,  which 
are  no  more  than  ordinary  alleys  of  four  feet  in  width,  and  in 
these  are  the  dwellings  of  the  greater  part  of  the  poor  population. 
Narrow,  and  badly  paved,  they  do  not  much  invite  attention,  and 
if  one  is  seen  the  stranger  is  usually  satisfied  with  all.  There  is 
a  long  pier  or  jetty  extending  out  into  the  sea,  and  a  low  level 
plain  of  one  or  two  miles  in  length  and  about  one  mile  wide, 
called  the  "Yarmouth  Denes,"  on  which  is  a  tall  Doric  column  to 
the  memory  of  Nelson,  and  several  forts  erected  to  resist  the  at- 
tacks of  Paul  Jones  during  his  cruise  off  the  coast  in  our  revolu- 
tionary war.  The  inhabitants  are  chiefly  employed  in  marine 
pursuits  and  herring  fishing.  Thousands  of  the  finny  tribe  are 
annually  caught  and  prepared  for  market,  and  the  trade  is  one  of 
the  main  supports  of  the  place.  Like  most  sea-coast  towns,  it 
stands  on  a  sandy  plain,  and  for  miles  around  the  country  is 
level  and  tiresome  to  view.  Sand,  sand,  sand  is  nearly  everywhere, 
and  marshes,  divided  by  ditches  and  small  running  streams,  sur- 
round the  place.  The  sails  of  the  wherries  occasionally  break 
the  monotony  of  the  flat  landscape,  but  there  is  nothing  to  cause 
the  stranger  to  desire  a  residence  at  Yarmouth.  It  is  the  fifth 
port  in  England  in  amount  of  tonnage,  and  like  Lowestoft  carries 
on  a  large  trade  with  the  Baltic  and  Sweden. 

The  method  of  farming  in  England  is  very  different  from  that 
practised  in  the  United  States,  and  necessarily  so,  from  the  dissi- 
milarity of  the  customs  of  the  two  countries.  In  that  part  of  the 
world,  the  cultivator  of  the  soil  is  seldom,  if  ever,  the  owner,  while 
in  our  land  it  is  just  the  reverse.  There  the  farmer  rents  a  large 
or  small  tract  of  land  from  one  of  the  groat  proprietors,  and 
hires  his  laborers  at  a  small  salary  per  day,  he  himself  lording  it 
over  his  rustic  servants  with  as  much  pomp  and  circumstance  as  a 
West  Indian  over  his  slaves.  The  farm-houses  are  generally 
small,  and  seldom  more  than  straw-thatched  cottiigcs.  Sometimes, 
and  most  frequently,  the  cultivator  or  renter  of  land  lives  in  a 
village  and  dresses  in  fashionable  style,  scarcely  ever  condescend- 
ing to  put  his  hand  to  labor,  and  only  exercising  a  directing  power 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  367 

over  his  employees.  The  laborers  regard  him  with  reverence,  and 
look  up  to  him  with  fear,  as  one  superior  to  themselves,  and  he 
generally  considers  such  marks  of  respect  and  homage  as  his  by 
right.  Probably  no  classes  of  English  society  exhibit  the  differ- 
ence of  caste  so  thoroughly  as  the  rustic  farm-laborer  and  the 
gentleman  farmer.  The  one  looks  upon  the  toiler  with  contempt 
and  indifference;  while  the  other  regards  the  renter  with  dread 
and  wonder.  The  workingman  earns  the  wretched  pittance  of  a 
shilling  a  day  by  toiling  from  daylight  to  dark,  and  lives  in  a 
miserable  hovel  on  oatmeal  cake,  or  some  equally  coarse  food, 
seldom  or  never  enjoying  the  luxury  of  a  piece  of  meat.  He  rarely 
has  more  than  one  suit  of  clothing,  and  that  of  the  roughest  fabric; 
and  oftentimes  cannot  obtain  employment  even  at  a  shilling  a  day. 
Some  of  these  men  have  large  families  to  support,  but  by  what 
species  of  necromancy  they  do  it,  it  is  hard  to  divine.  Many  of 
them  obtain  parish  relief,  and  drag  out  a  life  of  pauperism  of  the 
meanest  character.  They  are  not  slaves,  they  are  not  marketable 
cattle;  but  they  do,  in  certain  sections  of  the  country,  stand  in 
the  market-place  at  a  particular  time  in  the  year,  and  ask  persons 
to  give  them  employment.  This  is  a  custom  in  Norfolk;  and  in 
the  large  market-towns  men  and  women  range  themselves  in  rows 
on  market-days,  in  the  markets,  as  the  slaves  are  ranged  in  New 
Orleans,  and  ask  the  passers-by  to  hire  them  as  servants. 

I  was  met  by  appointment  at  Yarmouth  by  a  farmer  living 
near  the  village  of  Acle,  and  went  with  him  in  his  own  convey- 
ance to  his  house.  The  rain  beat  against  us  fiercely  as  we  drove 
in  an  open  vehicle  over  the  dull,  flat,  marshy  lands  through  which 
lay  our  route,  and  a  distant  view  of  the  ruins  of  Caistor  Castle, 
the  stronghold  and  residence  of  the  family  of  Shakspeare's  im- 
mortal Sir  John  Falstaff,  was  the  only  object  to  interest  me  on 
the  drive.  Night  closed  in  before  we  reached  our  destination  ; 
when  we  did  arrive,  eyes  were  there  that  grew  brighter  with 
our  coming,  and  the  homebrewed  and  roast  beef  of  Old  England 
supplied  the  cravings  of  the  inner  man,  while  the  blazing  fire 
and  the  cheerful  faces  of  my  entertainers  made  me  feel  at  home. 
I  was  hospitably  entertained  for  a  week  at  Acle,  and  passed  the 


368  THE  rOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

time  in  rural  simplicity.  Mine  host  was  a  cheerful,  friendly  man, 
a  fair  specimen  of  the  superior  English  farmer,  and  devotedly 
wedded  to  the  customs  of  his  class.  He  cultivates  about  three 
hundred  acres  of  marsh  land,  and  employs  but  few  hands;  but  such 
as  he  does,  he  pays  well  and  treats  kindly.  His  house  is  pleas- 
antly situated  near  a  stream  of  considerable  magnitude  for  the 
country,  and  as  it  is  navigable,  he  has  abundant  facilities  for  get- 
ting his  produce  to  market,  and  realizes  fair  profits.  The  rent  is 
what  would  be  called  high  in  the  United  States,  and  a  man  can 
purchase  good  land  here  for  the  annual  sum  he  pays  as  rental 
there  for  land  of  indiflferent  quality.  His  farm  is  considered 
cheap,  but  it  is  difficult  to  see  wherein  the  cheapness  consists, 
when  it  is  known  that  he  pays  seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents  per 
acre  rent,  besides  taxes,  poor-rates,  etc.  He  can  get  better  land 
in  Western  Virginia  for  two  dollars  an  acre  clear  title,  and  be  al- 
most as  near  a  market  as  he  is  now,  without  the  encumbrance 
of  heavy  taxes,  although  he  may  be  obliged  to  live  in  compara- 
tive retirement. 

There  is  more  care  in  the  cultivation  of  the  land  in  some  sec- 
tions of  England  than  in  others  ;  but,  as  a  general  rule,  I  cannot 
say  that  the  soil  is  better  farmed  than  in  many  cases  with  us. 
They  cultivate  every  inch,  and,  consequently,  the  farms  have  a 
highly  improved  appearance.  The  climate  keeps  the  grass  richly 
green  the  whole  year  through,  and  the  American  can  scarcely 
imagine  why  it  is  so.  But  the  sequel  is  the  moisture  of  the 
atmosphere,  and  the  mildness  of  the  summers  and  winters.  In 
every  section  of  the  country  the  traveller  sees  turnips  in  the 
ground  in  the  cold  weather,  there  not  being  sufficient  frost  to  in- 
jure them.  This  vegetable  is  much  cultivated,  and  is  used  as  food 
for  cattle.  Grains  are  grown  to  a  great  extent,  and  grazing  is 
followed  by  nearly  every  farmer.  Orchards  of  fruit-trees  are 
seldom  seen  in  the  eastern  counties ;  and,  in  fact,  it  may  be  said 
that  there  are  few  orchards  in  England  excepting  those  of  Devon- 
shire and  Somerset. 

The  village  of  Acle  is  small  and  pretty,  being  situated  on  an 
elevated  piece  of  land  which  rises  from  the  flat  marshy  district 
lying  between  Norwich  and  the  sea-coast.     It  is  irregularly  built, 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  369' 

like  all  English  hamlets,  but  that  very  irregularity  gives  it  beauty. 
The  church  is  a  neat  G  othic  structure,  with  a  square  tower  of  con- 
siderable altitude,  and  contains  a  font  quite  singular  in  form  and 
construction.  I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  hear  a  preacher  so 
eloquent  as  the  clergyman  stationed  there,  and  can  give  him  credit 
for  being  the  best  speaker  I  heard  in  the  Established  Church.  His 
calm,  persuasive,  argumentative  tone,  and  unpresuming  piety,  won 
my  admiration  and  esteem,  and  I  listened  to  his  sermon  with 
satisfaction.  His  personal  appearance  was  far  from  prepossessing ; 
but,  although  his  face  was  not  handsome,  it  was  expressive  of 
honesty  and  piety,  and  did  not  belie  his  character. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  such  men  in  these  latter  days  in  the 
Church  of  England ;  and  as  they  preach  Evangelical  doctrine,  and 
eschew  the  notions  of  Tractarians,  they  serve  as  props  to  the 
wavering  fabric.  This  man  lives  in  comparative  obscurity  among 
a  rustic  population,  but  he  performs  his  part,  and  that  as  unos- 
tentatiously as  Goldsmith's  village  clergyman.  He  resides  in 
the  old  parsonage  near  the  church,  and  renders  unto  the  poor,  in 
spirit  and  in  store,  such  aid  as  he  commands.  It  was  pleasant 
to  see  the  villagers  gather  round  him  after  service, 

"  To  pluck  the  good  man's  gown  and  share  his  smile." 

They  took  delight  in  being  recognized  by  him,  and  he  appeared 
equally  delighted  to  behold  them,  and  exchange  a  few  words  with 
those  who  came  near  him.  The  church  service  was  conducted  in 
a  solemnly  devout  manner,  and  I  must  say  that  I  never  heard  it 
performed  with  so  much  eifect  before.  The  choristers  sang  with 
a  heart,  and  did  not  strain  after  approbation ;  the  subordinate 
churchman  read  well,  and  the  clergyman  preached  as  a  man  in 
his  holy  calling  should  preach — with  a  belief  in  what  he  uttered, 
and  a  desire  to  do  good  to  others. 

The  country  around  Acle  is  very  flat,  and  as  the  village  stands 
on  the  highest  ground  in  that  section,  views  are  afforded  of  the 
surrounding  district.  Yarmouth,  eleven  miles  distant,  can  be 
distinctly  seen  in  clear  weather,  and  the  ocean,  with  its  fleets  of 
coasters,  is  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  The  marshes  are  intersected 
by  drains  and  small  rivers,  and,  in  almost  every  section,  windmills 


370  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

fight  their  way  through  the  thick  atmosphere.  Their  broad  arma 
slash  about  like  the  swords  of  warriors,  and,  towering  up  as  they 
do  from  the  level  plain,  they  give  the  landscape,  in  connection  with 
the  wherries  that  traverse  the  rivers,  a  picturesque  appearance. 
Acle  is  one  of  the  best  places  in  the  county  from  which  to  view 
the  marshy  district,  and  the  scenery  adjacent,  although  not  rugged 
and  imposing,  is  attractive  and  unusual.  The  rivers  winding 
through  the  lands  are  very  small  streams,  but  navigable  for 
wherries.  These  are  a  species  of  craft  peculiar  to  Norfolk,  and 
hard  to  describe.  They  vary  in  size  from  fifteen  to  twenty-five 
tons,  have  one  mast  that  can  be  raised  or  lowered  at  will,  and  are 
usually  sailed  by  a  man  and  his  wife,  who  live  on  board,  and 
change  their  locality  as  business  or  duty  requires.  They  sail  very 
fast,  and  leap  along  the  crooked  little  rivers  like  war-steeds,  dash- 
ing the  waves  from  their  bows  in  sheets  of  foam.  The  sails  are 
usually  black  or  of  a  dirty  brown,  the  hull  much  the  same  color, 
and  the  crew  in  character  with  sails  and  hull.  They  are  used  for 
conveying  farm  and  other  produce  to  market,  and  are  to  the  rivers 
of  the  eastern  counties  of  England,  so  far  as  carrying  freight  goes, 
what  the  steamboats  of  the  "West  are  to  the  mighty  waters  there. 


CHAPTER   XL. 


A   VISIT  TO   BLICKLINO   HALL,   THE   BIRTHPLACE   OF  ANNE 
BOLEYN. 

The  County  of  Norfolk  abounds  in  places  closely  connected 
with  many  of  the  great  historical  events  of  England,  and  its 
baronial  halls  are  rich  in  objects  of  interest  to  the  stranger. 
There  are  several  in  the  vicinity  of  Norwich,  and  others  a  few 
miles  distant,  among  which  is  Blickling,  the  birthplace  of  Anno 
Bolcyn.  I  had  considerable  curiosity  to  sec  the  famous  hall,  and 
in  company  with  two  companions  paid  it  a  visit.  We  left  the 
city  at  an  early  hour,  and  drove  through  one  of  the  most  pic- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  371 

turesque  sections  of  the  country,  passing  on  our  route  numerous 
villages  and  princely  dwellings.  The  landscape  did  not  present 
the  rich  aspect  peculiar  to  the  country  in  the  spring,  but  never- 
theless it  looked  gay,  and  the  balmy  weather  sufficed  in  a  great 
measure  for  the  absence  of  foliage  from  the  trees.  The  village 
churches,  with  their  ivy-covered  towers  and  antique  walls,  always 
riveted  my  attention,  and  the  quiet  parsonages  looked  the  very 
abodes  of  earthly  happiness.  Clambering  vines  were  wreathed 
around  the  oriel  windows,  and  snowdrops  and  primroses  modestly 
peeped  up  from  the  green  sward  around,  and  lent  a  charm  to  those 
pleasant  abodes.  At  a  distance  we  could  see  the  hamlets  and 
their  sharp  church  spires  or  square  towers,  and  the  skylarks  sang 
their  matin  song  in  the  clear  sky  above  our  heads.  The  weather 
was  as  soft  and  mild  as  early  spring  with  us,  and  I  could  scarcely 
satisfy  myself  that  it  was  February  in  England,  the  atmosphere 
was  so  different  from  what  my  preconceived  notions  of  it  at  this 
season  were.  We  made  a  short  stay  at  the  town  of  Aylsham,  the 
largest  on  our  route,  and  as  the  church  is  the  greatest  attraction 
of  the  place  we  bent  our  steps  towards  it.  The  grass  was  brightly 
green  on  the  numerous  hillocks  in  the  burial-ground,  and  the  old 
church  gray  with  age.  Its  tall  tower  commands  a  view  of  the 
surrounding  country,  and  can  be  seen  for  miles  in  almost  every 
direction.  The  sacred  pile  is  large,  and  has  a  number  of  tablets 
on  its  walls  to  the  memory  of  the  gentry  of  the  neighborhood, 
and  some  tombs,  in  the  aisles,  of  long-forgotten  families.  The 
principal  windows  are  of  stained  glass,  the  designs  being  the 
armorial  bearings  of  the  titled  residents  of  the  parish  and  adjacent 
country.  I  noticed  one  tomb  in  the  ground  on  which  there  was 
an  epitaph  in  itself  original  and  worth  copying.  The  stone  is 
over  the  grave  of  a  lawyer,  and  the  verse  as  follows : — 

''  Not  like  Egyptian  tyrants  consecrate, 
Unmixed  with  others  shall  my  dust  remain, 
But  mouldering,  blending,  melting  into  earth. 
Mine  shall  give  form  and  color  to  the  rose, 
And  while  its  varied  blossoms  cheer  mankind 
Its  fragrant  odors  shall  ascend  to  Heaven!" 

It  seldom  happens  that  the  mortal  remains  of  a  limh  of  the 


872  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

law  nurture  roses  to  delight  mankind,  and  it  is  a  gratification  to 
be  told  that  the  body  of  one  of  the  honorable  profession  is  useful 
after  death,  and  smells  more  of  the  attar  gul  than  of  fees  and 
parchment. 

A  further  drive  of  three  miles  along  a  fine  road  brought  us  to 
Blickling  Hall,  and  after  having  our  horses  cared  for  at  the  inn 
near  by,  and  ourselves  refreshed  and  rested  before  the  bright  fire 
in  the  parlor,  we  went  over  to  the  aristocratic  mansion,  and 
were  welcomed  in  true  English  style  by  the  persons  in  charge  of 
the  dwelling,  for  the  family  was  absent.  We  ascended  a  broad 
flight  of  oaken  steps,  and  were  ushered  into  a  hall  of  great  extent, 
the  floors  of  which  were  of  solid  oak,  white  as  scrubbing  could 
make  them,  and  after  many  cordial  grasps  of  the  hand  and  con- 
gratulations upon  our  arrival,  we  were  served  from  the  cellar  with 
tankards  of  foaming  homebrewed  ale,  and  from  the  larder  with 
Cheshire  cheese  and  a  cold  cut  of  roast  beef.  The  enlivening 
beverage  quickened  our  colloquial  powers,  and  the  cheerful  faces 
of  the  ladylike  housekeeper  and  laundress,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
bright  eyes  of  the  waiting-maids,  made  us  for  the  time  feel  indif- 
ferent to  worldly  cares;  and  as  I  enjoyed  the  ale  and  the  society 
of  the  hall,  I  could  not  resist  calling  to  mind  the  peerless  Boleyn 
and  her  countless  suitors,  from  the  gallant  knight  down  to  lloyal 
Harry.  And  then  the  Falstafis  once  occupied  Blickling ;  and  who 
knows  but  what  that  roaring  wassailer,  Sir  John,  of  Shakspearc's 
masterly  pen,  might  have  revelled  in  the  very  room  in  which 
I  now  sat,  surrounded  by  some  of  England's  matchless  girls,  with 
"bright  blue  eyes  and  brown  hair  lightly  curling ?''  Away  with 
conjecture  !  When  in  Blickling,  I  was  in  a  congenial  spot,  and  for 
the  first  time  realized  my  idea  of  an  English  hall  and  good  old 
English  cheer.  There  were  the  high  ceilings,  the  oaken  floors 
and  wainscoting,  the  antique  upright  cliairs,  the  ladylike  domestics, 
the  tapestried  rooms,  the  pictured  walls,  the  roaring  fireplace,  the 
gentlemanly  butler,  the  well-stored  vaults,  the  massive  plate,  the 
savory  odors  of  viands,  and  the  very  air  of  baronial  dignity  and 
rural  aristocratic  comfort.  Tiie  long  galleries  and  numerous 
rooms,  the  spacious  library,  stored  with  thousands  of  volumes, 
the  halls,   the  bedchambers,  the  drawing-rooms,  the  parlors,  the 


ORj  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  373 

grounds,  the  parks,  all  were  visited  by  us,  and  were  enjoyed  as 
far  as  seeing  went.  The  pictures  are  nothing  to  boast  of,  and 
the  only  one  worth  naming  is  a  portrait  of  Charles  the  First  by 
Vandyke,  and  a  good  picture  it  is  too,  but  its  authenticity  may 
be  questioned.  Every  loyal  English  gentleman  in  the  realm,  that 
can  afford  it,  has  a  portrait  of  the  martyred  monarch,  by  Van- 
dyke; and,  at  a  moderate  estimate,  there  must  be  a  hundred  of 
such  pictures  by  the  Flemish  artist  in  England,  if  we  believe  all 
we  are  told.  But  I  do  not  credit  all  that  is  said  of  pictures,  and 
take  for  granted  that  these  original  Vandykes  are  mostly  imita- 
tions of  the  great  painter.  It  would  have  taken  him  a  lifetime 
to  paint  one  moiety  of  what  is  attributed  to  him,  and  then  they 
could  not  be  good.  His  style  is  easily  copied,  and  his  Charles 
the  First  has  been  imitated  so  well  that  but  few  can  tell  the  ori- 
ginals from  the  copies.  Go  where  you  will,  where  there  is  a  pic- 
ture-gallery, and  lo !  ^^  Charles  the  First,  by  Vandyke,"  meets 
your  startled  vision,  and  you  begin  to  marvel  at  the  amazing 
industry  of  the  artist  who  has  left  so  many  fac-similes  of  the 
beheaded  king.  He  must  have  worked  night  and  day  to  have 
completed  one-half  of  those  accredited  to  him;  and,  as  he  painted 
other  pictures  besides  portraits  of  Charles,  it  is  no  more  than  fair 
to  acquit  him  of  having  painted  all  the  Charleses  attributed  to 
him  at  this  day.  But  I  must  away  from  the  pictures,  and 
speak  of  something  of  more  interest,  if  I  can  find  a  more  inte- 
resting subject  to  speak  about.  The  grand  staircase  is  very  im- 
posing, and  although  not  so  richly  ornamented  as  that  of  North- 
umberland House  in  London,  is  much  more  effective.  The  stairs 
are  broad,  the  platforms  wide,  and  the  banisters  carved  and  gilt 
in  gorgeous  style,  with  posts  rising  at  intervals,  above  the  top 
rail,  on  which  are  figures  of  men  in  armor  in  various  attitudes  of 
defence.  The  niches  on  either  side  of  the  stairs  are  occupied  by 
statues — one  of  Anne  Boleyn,  the  other  of  her  daughter,  Queen 
Elizabeth. 

The  exterior  of  the  hall  is  in  keeping  with  the  interior,  and  is 

aristocratic  in  every  point  of  view.     What  was  once  a  moat  still 

surrounds  the  building,  and  the  drawbridge  remains  as  in  olden 

time.     The  house  is  quadrangular,  with  towers  at  each  angle, 

32 


374  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  UIGHWAY  ; 

and  one  immediately  over  the  entrance-gate,  and  has  two  court- 
yards. It  stands  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  high  road,  and 
is  approached  through  grounds  inclosed  on  either  side  by  rows  of 
small  yew-trees,  so  trimmed  and  arranged  as  to  form  an  avenue  of 
fadeless  green  of  great  beauty.  The  parks  are  very  extensive, 
containing  full  a  thousand  acres.  There  is  a  large  lake  on  the 
estate,  and  groves  of  noble  oaks,  elms,  and  chestnuts,  and  nume- 
rous deer.  The  walks  are  many,  some  of  them  being  overhung 
with  the  broad  arras  of  massive  trees,  which  afford  shelter  from 
the  sun  and  rain,  and  have  a  truly  Arcadian  appearance.  Here 
and  there  are  flower-gardens,  and  even  at  the  season  of  which  I 
write,  midwinter,  roses  bloom  in  the  open  air  in  those  homes  of 
Flora.  The  primrose  and  snowdrop  decked  the  mead,  and  the 
crocus  modestly  peeped  up  from  the  earth  as  if  over-anxious  for 
the  breath  of  spring.  If  the  grounds  of  Blickling  are  always  thus 
gay  in  winter,  they  must  be  a  garden  of  Paradise  in  the  time  of 
flowers. 

The  building  occupies  a  beautiful  site,  and  is  imposing.  There 
is  a  room  near  one  of  the  towers  in  which,  tradition  says,  the  apiri't 
of  the  father  of  the  unfortunate  queen,  Anne  Boleyn,  was  confined 
for  over  two  hundred  years.  The  story  goes  that  he  was  impri- 
soned there  for  giving  his  consent  to  his  daughter's  union  with  the 
brutal  Harry;  and  that  he  escaped  from  confinement  only  a  few 
years  ago,  when  the  roof  was  raised  for  purposes  of  repair,  at  which 
time  he  took  flight  in  a  cloud  of  brimstone  smoke,  amid  peals  of 
thunder.  The  legend  is  popular  among  the  rustics  of  the  neigh* 
borhood,and  is  told  by  them  with  evident  pleasure;  not  that  they 
believe  the  story,  but  because  there  is  a  dash  of  romance  in  it  that 
throws  a  charm  over  the  hall,  and  makes  it  an  object  of  greater  in- 
terest to  the  curious  than  if  no  such  tale  were  connected  with  its 
history.  The  tradition  is  cherished  by  the  pea.santry  for  the  sake 
of  their  fathers;  and  as  nearly  every  old  mansion  in  the  realm 
has  some  such  harmless  fable  connected  with  it,  it  is  meet  that  the 
stories  be  handed  down  from  father  to  son,  because  of  the  plea- 
sure their  repetition  begets  for  the  stranger  and  the  lover  of  the 
marvellous.  Superstition  is  at  the  foundation  of  such  narratives, 
but  the  day  is  past  when  harm  will  result  from  their  repetition ; 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  375 

and  the  wanderer  wlio  goes  thousands  of  miles  to  gaze  on  old  ba- 
ronial halls  will  prize  thera  as  highly  for  the  traditions  connected 
with  them  as  for  any  other  charm  they  may  possess.  Why  do 
more  tourists  visit  Kirk  Alloway  than  Kilmarnock?  Simply  be- 
cause romance  is  blended  with  one — fact  with  the  other.  Burns 
invested  the  ruin  with  a  halo  by  his  writings,  and  merely  pub- 
lished his  rhymes  in  Kilmarnock  !  and  hence  the  ruin  is  famous — 
the  town  disregarded.  We  had  a  pleasant  dinner-party  in  the  old 
dining-room,  sipped  a  social  cup  of  tea,  drank  the  prosperity  of  the 
residents  in  a  bumper  of  homebrewed,  and  at  a  seasonable  hour 
took  a  farewell  of  Blickling  and  its  cheerful  inmates,  and  with  a 
lasting  impression  of  the  hospitality  of  the  place  on  our  memories, 
returned  to  Norwich. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

THE  RESTING-PLACE  OF  WILLIAM  COWPER. 

The  readers  of  English  poetry,  in  every  section  of  the  world, 
entertain  a  profound  admiration  for  the  character  of  the  amiable 
poet  Cowperj  and,  although  the  grave  has  closed  over  him  for 
some  years,  his  name  is  fresh  in  the  memory  of  thousands,  and  he 
holds  converse,  through  the  medium  of  books,  with  gentle  minds 
in  every  portion  of  the  world  in  which  the  English  tongue  is 
spoken.  The  tone  of  pure  piety  that  pervades  his  works  makes 
him  popular  with  old  and  young ;  and  his  hymns  are  sung  in 
great  and  in  humble  assemblages  in  both  hemispheres.  But  few 
pilgrims  to  England  pay  a  visit  to  his  last  resting-place ;  and 
many  persons  may  look  upon  the  one  who  seeks  out  his  grave  as 
an  enthusiast,  and  overwise  in  his  admiration  of  the  bard.  I  know 
not  whether  I  am  peculiar  in  having  a  penchant  for  visiting  the 
last  resting-place  of  the  distinguished  or  not ;  but  I  never  yet 
passed  one  without  examination,  and  looking  at  the  objects  of  in- 
terest around.     East  Dereham,  the  burial-place  of  Cowper,  is  but 


876  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

a  few  miles  distant  from  Norwich,  and  being  in  the  vicinity,  I  de- 
termined to  extend  my  walk,  and  look  upon  the  poet's  grave.  A 
slight  crust  of  snow  covered  the  earth,  and  the  landscape  wore  a 
wintry  aspect  not  in  character  with  the  weather  recently  so  mild 
and  balmy.  I  plodded  my  way  along  the  highway  between  leaf- 
less hedges,  and  entered  the  town  about  midday,  when  the  slug- 
gish denizens  were  just  beginning  to  move  about  the  streets.  There 
was  but  little  to  merit  my  notice  in  the  town  itself,  save  the  house 
in  which  the  poet  died ;  and,  after  looking  up  one  street  and  down 
another,  wandering  into  the  market-place  and  scrutinizing  the  In- 
habitants, I  sought  out  the  old  church,  and,  on  making  inquiry, 
succeeded  in  securing  the  services  of  the  clerk  to  show  me  through 
the  sacred  fane.  The  snow  covered  the  countless  graves  in  the 
churchyard,  and  hung  on  the  leafless  branches  of  the  stately  elms, 
whose  boughs  spread  above  the  mouldering  heaps,  and  aflForded 
resting-places  for  the  cawing  rooks.  The  scene  reminded  me 
of  the  "Winter  Morning  Walk;"  and,  as  I  was  near  the  poet's 
tomb,  and  in  the  very  town  in  which  he  composed  his  most  cele- 
brated work,  I  felt  a  spirit  of  admiration  not  easily  described. 
Before  me  stood  the  stately  edifice,  with  its  imposing  and  solid 
towers,  while  the  bright  rays  of  a  clear  sun  fell  softly  on  the  car- 
pet of  snow  that  hung,  like  a  white  shroud,  over  the  graves  of  the 
humble  dead.  The  landscape  stretched  away  to  the  south,  in 
wintry  beauty,  and  the  smoke  from  the  distant  cottages  ascended, 
like  incense,  to  Heaven.  All  was  quiet,  all  was  still ;  and  I  would 
have  stood,  no  doubt,  for  an  hour  contemplating  the  solemn  yet 
pleasing  prospect,  had  not  the  official  mildly  reminded  me  that  his 
time  was  precious,  and  it  was  important  that  we  should  enter  the 
sacred  fane  at  once,  if  I  desired  to  see  the  interior.  I  followed 
him  into  the  chancel,  where  the  softened  rays  of  the  sun  streamed 
in  mellowness  through  the  richly-stained  glass  upon  the  sacred 
altar.  There  is  nothing  really  gorgeous  in  the  design  of  the  win- 
dow, but  the  brilliant  colors  of  the  glass,  tinged  by  the  bright  sun's 
rays,  wore  sweet  to  behold ;  and,  although  the  church  was  cold, 
I  enjoyed  a  fooling  of  comfort  while  gazing  on  the  warm  hues  of 
the  deep-stained  glass.  The  poet  is  buried  in  the  north  chapel, 
and  a  small  piece  of  brass  is  inserted  in  the  stone  covering  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  377 

grave.  A  heavy,  cumbrous,  ungraceful  marble  monument  to  his 
memory  is  erected  in  the  window  immediately  over  the  tomb; 
and  a  more  inappropriate  design  for  the  memorial  of  such  a  man 
could  not  be  conceived  of.  It  is  pyramidal  in  form,  surmounted 
by  representations  in  marble  of  the  Bible,  and  another  volume 
labelled  "The  Task;"  but  they  are  so  wretchedly  executed,  that 
one  would  scarcely  suppose  them  intended  to  represent  books. 
What  was  evidently  designed  for  a  branch  of  laurel  is  wreathed 
around  the  top  of  the  monument,  but  it  is  no  credit  to  the  sculp- 
tor.    The  inscription  is  simple,  and  reads  thus  :— 

IN   MEMORY   OF 

WILLIAM  COWPEK,  Esquire. 

Born   in    Hertfordshire,    1732, 

Buried  in  this  church,  1800. 

Some  lines  follow ;  and  on  a  tablet,  at  the  side  of  the  epitaph,  is 
a  memorial  to  Mrs.  Unwin,  the  friend  and  companion  of  the  poet. 
She  is  buried  in  one  of  the  aisles  of  the  nave,  and  a  slab  of  mar» 
ble,  with  the  simple  record, 

MARY    UNWIN, 
1796, 

is  all  that  marks  her  grave.  The  guide  was  a  talkative  old  man, 
and  took  evident  pleasure  in  pointing  out  what  of  interest  there 
is  in  the  church.  He  had  a  distinct  recollection  of  Cowper; 
but,  as  many  such  officials  are  blest  with  a  personal  knowledge 
of  the  distinguished  dead  intrusted  to  their  keeping,  I  did  not 
encourage  the  communicative  clerk  in  his  attempts  to  give  me 
his  impressions  of  the  pious  bard.  I  was  content  with  what  I 
saw,  and  not  disposed  to  record  the  well-arranged  story  told  me 
by  my  guide.  He  knew  too  much,  and  as  he  was  not  over  fifty 
years  of  age,  there  was  no  reason  for  supposing  him  to  be  par- 
ticularly fond  of  the  truth.  What  he  said  of  Cowper  may  be 
true;  but  I  cannot  vouch  for  it,  and  therefore  shall  not  record  the 
story. 

The  exterior  of  the  East  Dereham  Church  is  imposing,  and  as 
the  building  is  located  on  a  gently  sloping  hill,  and  surrounded  by 

32* 


878  THE  FOOTrATH  AND  nronwAY; 

a  large  burial-ground,  the  views  of  it  are  numerous  and  good. 
There  is  a  tower  at  a  short  distance  from  the  main  edifice,  built 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  to  sustain  the  chime  of  bells, 
the  one  on  the  main  edifice  not  being  considered  sufficiently  strong. 
It  has  an  odd  appearance  in  its  isolated  position,  and  conveys  to 
one's  mind  the  idea  that  it  is  the  sole  ruin  of  a  fallen  church. 
But  such  is  not  the  case ;  its  origin  is  as  above  stated,  and  it  is 
used  to  this  day  for  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  built. 

Dereham  is  a  small  place  with  but  few  streets,  and  they  are 
mostly  long  and  narrow,  the  houses  not  being  more  than  two 
stories  high  as  a  general  thing.  It  was  once  a  busy,  bustling 
town,  in  the  glorious  days  of  stage-coaches;  but  its  star  of  pros- 
perity has  declined,  and  now  there  is  but  little  business  transacted, 
except  on  market-days,  when  the  farmers  and  dealers  from  the 
adjoining  country  pour  into  it  from  railway  carriages,  instead  of 
their  own  conveyances  or  the  lamented  coaches  of  old.  There 
was  nothing  attractive  beyond  the  poet's  grave  described,  and  I 
soon  left  the  old  town  behind,  and  returned  to  the  famous  city  of 
Norwich,  ruminating  on  my  way  on  my  visit  to  Cowpcr's  tomb. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

ENGLISH  RAILWAYS. 

The  railways  of  England  are  among  the  greatest  attractions  of 
the  Island,  and  so  numerous  as  to  create  some  doubts  as  to  the 
necessity  for  so  many.  There  is  scarcely  a  town,  or  considerable 
village,  but  has  its  station  or  depot,  and  the  roads  cross  each  other 
}n  every  direction.  New  tracks  are  constantly  in  course  of  con- 
struction, and  from  present  appearances  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  railways  will  be  almost  as  general  as  turnpike  roads 
before  ten  more  years  pass  by.  Every  line  is  laid  with  double 
tracks,  the  gauges  used  being  two  :  one  four  feet  eight  and  a  half 
inches,  which  is  called  the  narrow — the  other  seven  feet,  or  there- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  379 

about,  and  known  as  the  wide  gauge.  The  last  named  is  not  much 
in  use,  and  I  observed  it  in  only  two  or  three  instances — on  the 
Great  Western  road  and  its  branches.  The  narrower  scale  is  almost 
universal,  and  it  is  not  an  unusual  thing  to  see  the  carriages  of 
the  southern  railway  companies  on  the  Scottish  lines.  They  are 
readily  shifted  from  one  road  to  another,  and  as  a  mutual  under- 
standing exists  between  certain  companies,  by  which  each  is 
allowed  to  travel  the  other's  rails  with  their  own  cars,  this  fact  is 
at  once  explained.  In  some  cases^  great  rivalry  exists,  and  it  does 
occasionally  happen  that  no  favors  are  granted  by  opposition  cor- 
porate bodies;  -but  such  things  are  rare.  During  the  summer  of 
1851,  when  cheap  excursion  trains  were  all  the  rage,  the  Great 
Northern  and  Midland  Counties  companies  were  running  in  oppo- 
sition to  each  other,  and  the  cars  of  the  first  named  traversed  the 
line  of  the  other  from  Doncastcr  to  York,  a  distance  of  some 
thirty  miles,  and  each  issued  tickets  from  the  same  station  in  the 
latter  city.  The  Great  Northern  paid  the  Midland  Counties  com- 
pany for  the  use  of  their  road,  and  then  carried  passengers  to 
London  and  back  in  competition  with  them  for  five  shillings,  a 
distance  of  more  than  two  hundred  miles.  The  same  principle 
was  carried  out  on  other  routes  at  that  time,  but  the  system  was 
discontinued  at  the  close  of  the  Exhibition.  The  Great  Northern 
is  a  new  company,  and  the  line  runs  through  Peterborough,  Lin- 
coln, and  other  cities  of  the  eastern  and  central  parts  of  the  island, 
terminating  at  York.  The  rails  were  not  down  during  the  sum- 
mer to  that  city — not  being  laid  further  than  Doncaster ;  and  it 
was  in  the  power  of  the  Midland  Counties  line  to  cut  the  Great 
Northern  out  of  the  York  trade  entirely,  but  they  pursued  the 
contrary  course,  and  admitted  their  rival  to  a  share  of  the  traffic. 
The  whole  system  of  management  differs  from  that  in  use  in 
the  United  States.  The  cars  are  of  three  distinct  grades — first, 
second,  and  third.  The  first  are  cushioned  and  divided  into  apart- 
ments for  six  persons;  and  are,  in  all  respects,  even  more  comfort- 
able and  convenient  than  the  cars  in  use  in  the  States.  One-half 
of  the  passengers  are  under  the  necessity  of  riding  backwards,  but 
that  mode  of  travel  is  considered  the  better  one  by  the  English, 
because  it  docs  not  expose  the  traveller  to  the  draughts  of  air  which 


380  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  niGIIWAY  ; 

rush  through  the  carriage  when  the  windows  are  open  and  the 
train  is  in  motion. 

The  second-class  are  plain,  and  without  cushions,  and  in  some 
instances  very  much  contracted.  They  are  usually  divided  into 
apartments  for  ten  persons,  five  on  a  seat  or  bench;  and  in  some 
instances  the  partitions  by  which  they  are  separated  are  not  higher 
than  a  man's  shoulders  when  seated.  The  Scottish  roads  are  pro- 
vided with  much  better  carriages  of  this  class  than  those  of  Eng- 
land, the  most  of  them  having  cushioned  seats. 

The  third-class  are  worse,  of  course,  than  either  of  the  two 
preceding,  some  of  them  being  open  to  the  weather,  and  without 
seats.  Those  that  are  covered  are  generally  indifferent,  but,  as  it 
is  presumed  by  the  companies  that  a  man  who  travels  in  the  third- 
class  carriages  is  used  to  roughness,  they  never  have  a  glass  in  the 
door  to  allow  him  to  see  out,  and  keep  him  in  darkness  as  far  as 
possible.  You  can,  if  you  choose,  let  the  slide  down  that  is  placed 
in  the  door,  and  then  you  can  enjoy  the  breeze,  and  snuff  the 
smoke  and  dust  from  the  engine.  There  is  a  train  called  the 
Government  or  Parliamentary,  which  consists  of  good,  comfortable, 
covered  carriages,  equally  as  convenient  as  the  second-class,  in 
which  passengers  are  conveyed  for  a  penny  per  mile;  but  the 
companies  manage  to  arrange  the  time  of  departure  of  such  from 
the  principal  stations  at  unseasonable  Jiours^  and  thus  throw 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  those  who  desire  to  travel  by  them.  They 
are,  however,  compelled  to  run  one  train  of  this  character  each 
way  every  day,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  people,  and  it  is  a 
bitter  thing  for  them  to  comply  with  the  law.  Before  the  act  was 
passed,  the  third-class  carriages  were  usually  mere  pigstyes,  without 
covering,  and  men  were  exposed  to  all  kinds  of  weather  when  tra- 
velling in  them,  and  obliged  to  stand  up  at  that.  Now  it  is  differ- 
ent, and  I  would  as  readily  travel  in  a  Parliamentary,  if  I  were  not 
in  a  hurry,  as  in  a  second-class  carriage.  Thousands  of  tradesmen 
and  genteel  people  go  by  these  conveyances,  and  it  seldom  hap- 
pens that  a  stranger  falls  into  very  bad  company  in  them. 

The  fares  arc  generally  high,  and  the  charge  in  a  third-class  or 
Parliamentary  train  is  quite  as  much  as  that  demanded  for  a  first- 
class  passage  over  most  of  the  roads  in  the  Northern  States. 


381 

The  sums  paid  for  seats  in  first  and  second-rate  carriages  are 
from  one-third  more  to  twice  as  much  as  is  asked  for  the  best  rail- 
way conveyance  with  us.  None  of  these  cars  have  fire  in  them  at 
any  time,  and  in  winter  John  Bull  freezes  as  he  travels. 

The  usual  rate  of  travel  per  hour  is  not  greater  than  the  ave- 
rage on  our  best  roads,  and  it  rarely  occurs  that  a  train  exceeds 
thirty  miles  in  the  time  mentioned.  I  speak  now  of  the  ordinary 
passenger  trains — those  that  are  composed  of  two  classes  of  car- 
riages— first  and  second.  The  express  trains  may  reach  forty 
miles  to  the  hour,  but  seldom  go  beyond.  The  speed  on  English 
railroads  is  greatly  exaggerated  in  the  United  States,  and  the 
stories  we  hear  of  sixty  miles  an  hour  are  fabrications.  That 
rate  is  rarely,  if  ever,  attained;  and  if  it  ever  is  run,  it  is  only  on 
special  occasions  when  something  of  great  importance  requires 
such  rapid  travel.     At  least,  such  is  my  belief. 

The  system  of  ticketing  or  booking  passengers  is  excellent,  and 
might  be  adopted  in  the  United  States  with  advantage.  Every 
passenger  must  obtain  his  ticket  before  taking  his  seat,  under  a 
penalty  of  fine  or  imprisonment,  and  a  printed  card  is  given  him 
on  which  is  a  number,  the  date  of  issue,  and  the  train  in  which  he 
is  to  travel.  The  plan  is  carried  out  all  over  the  country,  and  if 
a  stranger,  unacquainted  with  the  regulations,  takes  his  seat  with- 
out first  obtaining  a  ticket,  he  is  shown  the  rules  and  where  to  pay 
his  fare.  It  seldom  happens  that  fines  are  imposed,  unless  in 
cases  where  fraud  is  attempted  on  the  company  and  clearly  proved. 
Sometimes  persons  are  called  upon  to  show  their  tickets  before 
the  journey  is  ended,  but  not  often.  The  roads  are  all  inclosed, 
and  no  one  can  get  out  of  the  inclosure  without  being  seen. 
There  are  attendants  at  every  station ;  in  fact,  the  road-side  stations 
are  neat,  comfortable  houses,  occupied  by  the  station-master  and 
his  subordinates.  Some  of  these  buildings  are  grand,  and  fitted 
up  beautifully.  The  passengers'  waiting-rooms  are  separated  ac- 
cording to  the  class,  and  the  same  distinctions  are  observable  in 
them  as  are  noticed  in  the  cars.  The  stations  in  the  large  cities 
are  immense  in  size,  all  covered  in,  and  all  convenient. 

There  is  but  little  doubt  that  the  heavy  cost  of  the  English 
railways  is  mainly  owing  to  the  immoderate  expenditure  upon 


882 

stations — in  embellishments  and  fine  fronts.  No  road  is  brought 
into  a  town  or  village,  as  with  us,  down  a  main  or  by-street. 
They  are  all  either  walled  in  or  raised  on  arches,  which  are  built 
at  immense  expense,  and  no  person  can  get  on  to  the  track  in 
either  town  or  country  without  being  immediately  put  off. 
^he  turnpikes  and  roads  do  not  cross  the  railways  as  with  us. 
They  either  pass  over  the  track  on  strong  bridges,  or  the  rail  is 
bridged  across  them.  In  only  two  instances  did  I  notice  the  turn- 
pike and  the  railroad  on  a  level  with  a  carriage-way  across  the  rail 
as  in  the  United  States,  and  those  were  at  Harrowgate,  Yorkshire, 
and  a  village  called  Colwich,  in  Staffordshire.  In  both  cases 
there  were  strong  gates  on  either  side  of  the  rail,  and  no  vehicle 
could  pass  through,  unless  by  the  consent  of  a  guard,  one  of  which 
was  constantly  in  attendance. 

The  name  of  the  town  or  village  is  painted  in  large  letters  on 
the  station,  and  the  master  of  the  depot  opens  the  carriage-doors 
when  the  train  stops,  and  tells  the  passengers  where  they  are. 
The  people  are  often  locked  in  to  prevent  accident,  for  some  are 
impatient  to  get  out  as  soon  as  they  arrive  at  their  destination, 
and  if  the  doors  were  not  secured,  many  would  suffer  injury  from 
alighting  too  soon.  Both  doors  are  not  usually  locked,  however; 
only  the  one  next  to  the  landing. 

The  rails  are  admirably  laid,  and  easy  to  travel.  There  is  no 
jolting,  no  uneasy  motion,  no  suffocating  dust.  The  fact  that  grass 
is  cultivated  on  the  sides  of  deep  cuts  and  slopes  is  one  reason 
why  clouds  of  the  choking  substance  do  not  arise  from  the  agita- 
tions of  the  air  by  the  flying  trains  ;  and  coke  is  used  as  fuel, 
which  is  another  reason  for  the  small  amount  of  dust  about  the 
carriages  when  in  motion. 

The  cars  are  constructed  on  the  same  principle  as  those  in  use 
in  the  early  history  of  railroads,  and  the  conductors  do  not  pass 
from  car  to  car  to  collect  tickets  as  with  us.  When  the  trains  are 
near  their  destination,  if  it  bo  a  large  town,  they  are  stopped  a 
mile  or  more  from  the  station  for  the  collection  of  the  tickcls,  and 
it  really  seems  as  if  it  never  yet  entered  the  head  of  an  English- 
man to  contrive  or  adopt  a  means  by  which  this  stoppage  could 
be  avoided.     The  simple  method  formerly  in  use  in  the  United 


383 

States,  when  carriages,  such  as  those  on  the  English  roads,  were 
common  here,  of  passing  from  car  to  car  on  a  footboard  outside, 
while  the  trains  are  in  motion,  and  collecting  the  tickets,  does  not 
appear  to  have  occurred  to  John  Bull,  or,  if  it  has,  it  has  never 
been  acted  upon ;  nor  has  he  thought  proper  to  change  the  shape 
of  the  carriages  so  as  to  allow  of  a  passage  through  from  one  to 
the  other  as  with  us. 

Some  one  of  my  countrymen  who  has  visited  England  says 
that  there  is  no  noise  made  by  the  railway-engines  when  starting 
or  stopping,  but  my  observations  lead  to  a  contrary  conclusion. 
I  never  was  in  a  train  that  was  not  started  at  the  ringing  of  a 
bell  or  shrill  cry  of  a  steam- whistle,  and  it  often  occurs  that  the 
engineers  make  one's  ears  tingle  with  the  noises  of  those  instru- 
ments. 

The  locomotives  are  mostly  small,  and  differ  materially  in  their 
construction  from  those  made  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic,  being 
more  concentrated.  The  driving-shaft  is  under  the  boiler,  and 
not  at  the  side  as  with  us.  The  most  of  them  are  manufactured 
at  Manchester,  Newcastle-upon-Tjme,  or  in  Scotland,  and  all  of 
them  are  finished  in  admirable  style.  The  chimney  or  smoke 
funnel  is  not  so  high  as  those  on  the  American  engines,  and  the 
wheels  appear  to  be  much  larger  in  proportion  to  the  size. 

Great  precaution  is  taken  to  prevent  accidents.  Men  usually 
go  round  the  train  at  the  principal  stopping-places  on  a  long 
route,  and  try  the  wheels  by  sounding  them  with  a  hammer,  and 
at  the  same  time  oil  the  journals  on  each  axle.  This  care  is  con- 
sidered necessary  on  account  of  the  constant  use  made  of  the 
cars,  and  it  is  a  prudent  one.  The  trains  are  all  run  on  the  left 
track  from  the  place  of  starting,  that  being  the  rule  throughout 
the  country.  The  left  is  the  right  of  the  road,  and  everywhere 
observed. 

The  tunnels  in  some  sections  of  the  country  are  very  long, 
particularly  in  the  mountainous  districts  of  Yorkshire,  and  all  of 
them  are  walled  with  brick  or  hewn  stone  throughout.  I  have 
passed  through  two  in  that  county  of  great  length,  one  being 
three,  the  other  two  miles  long.  From  this  fact  the  reader  can 
form  an  idea  of  the  heavy  cost  of  English  railways.     I  believe 


384 

they  average  $110,000  per  mile!  And  then  large  viaducts  are 
erected  over  valleys  and  rivers  which  would  be  considered  wonder- 
ful in  our  land.  Nothing  is  done  meanly,  but  everything  grand ! 
Perfection  is  aimed  at  in  every  case,  and  beauty  is  always  as 
much  sought  after  as  utility.  The  ground  on  the  sides  of  the 
tracks  is  often  cultivated  with  care,  and  at  nearly  every  village 
station  one  sees  in  season  a  bed  of  gay  and  delicious  flowers.  K 
the  carriages  for  passengers  were  as  elegant  as  the  roads,  there 
would  be  no  fault  of  consequence  to  remedy ;  but  such  is  not  the 
case,  nor  soon  likely  to  be. 

There  are  four  great  trunk  lines  in  England,  the  names  of 
which  are  as  follows :  London  and  North-western,  Great  Northern, 
Great  Western,  and  Midland  Counties,  although  the  latter  may 
not  be  considered  so  by  some  persons.  The  first  two  are  import- 
ant lines,  and  traverse  the  island  from  the  metropolis  north  to 
Scotland,  the  former  on  the  western  side,  the  latter  on  the  eastern. 
The  South-western  and  the  Eastern  Counties  roads  are  next  in 
importance,  and  with  their  branches  do  a  large  traffic.  One 
begins  at  London  and  terminates  at  Yarmouth  in  Norfolk ;  the 
other  diverges  from  the  metropolis  and  reaches  to  Southampton, 
and  branches  thence  to  various  towns  and  cities  in  the  South- 
western counties.  There  are  innumerable  minor  roads  not  in- 
cluded in  the  branches  of  the  above,  the  most  important  of  which 
is  the  Chester  and  Holyhead  line,  over  which  the  principal  travel 
between  England  and  Ireland  passes,  and  on  which  route  is  the 
Britannia  Tubular  Bridge.  There  are  but  two  roads  in  Wales, 
one  at  the  extreme  north,  just  named;  the  other  at  the  south. 
The  interior  of  the  principality  is  so  mountainous,  and  the  people 
so  little  given  to  travel,  that  railroads,  thus  far,  have  met  with 
but  little  favor  with  them. 

There  is  a  wonderful  amount  of  business  on  the  principal  lines, 
both  in  passengers  and  freight,  and  on  some  of  the  great  roads 
diverging  from  London,  as  many  as  fifteen  trains  for  the  convey- 
ance of  passengers  only,  leave  daily.  The  luggage  vans  (the 
name  given  to  all  freight  cars)  are  constantly  on  the  move,  and 
day  and  night  they  can  be  heard  rolling  on  over  the  iron  rails. 
In  fact,  an  English  railway  is  an  index  to  the  trade  of  the  country, 


385 

and  one  of  the  large  stations  in  a  city  of  importance  is  a  minia- 
ture of  the  island.  Passengers,  bales,  boxes,  and  produce,  each 
have  their  allotted  department,  and  each  are  moved  and  removed 
by  system  and  by  rule.  If  the  carriages  for  the  conveyance  of 
second  or  third-class  passengers  were  as  convenient  and  comfortable 
as  the  rules  for  the  government  of  the  roads  are  good  and  admira- 
ble, then  there  would  be  more  to  admire  in  the  system  than  there 
is  now,  and  but  little  of  which  to  complain. 

We  have  the  advantage  of  the  English  in  our  luggage  system 
and  they  might  adopt  our  plan  of  checking  baggage  with  profit. 
They  never  "  check'^  your  trunks,  but  generally  pile  them  on  top 
of  the  cars,  and  cover  them  with  canvas  to  keep  the  rain  out,  and 
if  you  don't  have  an  eye  on  them  yourself,  they  are  likely  to  be 
carried  off  by  some  watchful  thief. 

It  is  worth  while  to  observe  that  the  phrases  "  up  train,''  and 
*'  down  train,"  are  used  throughout  the  Island  of  Great  Britain, 
and  have  reference  to  London.  From  some  cause,  never  explained 
to  me.  Englishmen  always  speak  of  London  as  "  up,"  no  matter 
in  what  direction  it  lies  from  where  they  reside;  and  consequently 
those  designated  as  "  up  trains"  are  understood  to  be  going  to  the 
metropolis,  while  it  is  as  clearly  understood  that  the  ^'  down 
trains"  are  those  which  go  from  London. 


33 


386  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

BRianTON,   ITS   APPEARANCE — THE  PAVILION — ESPLANADE — A 
NIGHT  WITH  A  "BLUE  COAT  BOY/' 

I  PURPOSELY  pass  over  a  month  of  inactive  life,  and  if  my  reader 
will  follow  me  away  from  London,  I  will  conduct  him  in  imagi- 
nation to  Brighton.  Here  we  are  in  the  train,  a  bevy  of  chatting 
girls  is  at  our  side,  the  railway  officials  are  sounding  the  alarm 
of  departure,  and  now  w^  go,  over  the  house-tops  of  Bermondsey, 
the  smoke  from  the  chimneys  below  puffing  in  our  faces,  and  the 
shrill  cry  of  the  steam-whistle  ringing  in  our  ears,  away  from  the 
thick  atmosphere  of  the  metropolis  to  the  broad  fields  of  Kent  and 
Sussex,  and  thence  to  the  side  of  the  ever-sounding  and  heaving 
sea. 

Two  hours*  travel  brings  us  to  the  city  of  fashion,  and  we  are 
soon  quietly  released  from  the  carriages  and  station ;  we  hunt  up  a 
hotel,  perform  our  ablutions,  and  sally  forth  to  observe.  There 
is  an  air  of  grandeur  abotit  the  place  absolutely  bewitching,  and 
the  clear  sky  above  you,  and  clean  streets  around,  completely 
captivate.  The  thoroughfares  are  not  straight,  nor  are  they  level, 
nor  yet  narrow.  Steep,  crooked,  wide — describe  them !  But  the 
houses  ?  0 !  they  are  noble.  How  after  row  they  rise — in  ter- 
races, crescents,  places.  Nearly  all  are  beautiful,  lofty,  imposing, 
and  aristocratic.  The  city  is  not  like  others  in  England;  it  is 
new  and  grand.  The  parks  are  numerous;  the  drives  really 
magnificent ;  but  I'll  not  anticipate.  First  let  us  go  into  the 
pavilion — George  the  Fourth's  Folly.  It  is  a  gorgeous  palace, 
and  rich  in  Turkish  ornament.  Mosque-like  outside,  the  interior, 
decorated  with  gold  and  brilliant  colors,  hung  with  dazzling  lamps, 
and  crystal  chandeliers,  conveys  to  the  beholder's  mind  the  idea 
that  ho  is  in  some  splendid  eastern  palace,  to  ornament  which 
ingenuity  has  been  taxed  to  its  full,  and  the  stock  of  oriental  fun- 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OF  AN  AMERICAN.  387 

cies  and  arts  completely  exhausted.  Dragons  of  green,  with  fiery 
eyes  and  forked  tongues,  embellish  the  walls  of  one  department ; 
Alhambrian  scenery  those  of  another ;  and  all  the  colors  of  the 
palette  the  third.  It  is  the  very  abode  of  voluptuous  ease,  and 
one  cannot  divest  his  mind,  when  in  it,  of  Cyprians  and  sensual- 
ism. The  taint  of  immorality  is  blended  with  its  elegance,  and 
the  various  halls  are  looked  upon  only  as  places  once  reeking 
with  royal  dissipation.  The  present  Queen  of  England  never  ad- 
mired the  Pavilion,  and  by  her  advice  it  was  wisely  sold  to  the 
city  of  Brighton;  and  now  serves  the  purposes  of  an  exhibition- 
ball. 

I  said  before  that  the  houses  of  the  great  bathing-place  are 
beautiful,  and,  it  may  be  added,  they  are  like  palaces.  Nearly  all 
are  built  with  bow  fronts ;  the  windows  are  spacious ;  the  rooms 
lofty ;  the  style  of  building  imposing. 

But  the  drive  along  the  cliffs  is  the  principal  attraction  for  the 
stranger,  and  there,  of  a  clear  day,  crowds  come  and  go,  as  rich 
and  gay  as  those  which  throng  Hyde  Park.  The  road  follows 
along  the  sea,  overlooking  it  a  great  distance,  and  extends  full 
three  miles  in  an  unbroken  line,  to  the  north  of  which  is  a  continu- 
ous row  of  splendid  mansions.  Travellers  say  that  it  is  the  finest 
drive  in  Europe,  and  when  the  fashionable  hour  throngs  it  with 
equestrians,  it  does  not  take  a  large  fancy  to  make  it  so.  The 
ocean  rolls  at  the  south,  and  as  you  dash  along  the  edge  of  the 
clifi",  in  an  easy-going  carriage,  your  eye  involuntarily  wanders  out 
upon  the  blue  waves,  watching  them  in  their  wild  play  as  the 
breeze  curls  them  up  into  capes  of  foam.  France  is  beyond,  but 
the  eye  cannot  reach  it,  and  you  content  yourself  with  the  fact 
that  she  is  there;  and  to  be  nearer  her  shores,  you  go  down  on  to 
the  Chain  Pier,  a  long  artificial  promenade,  erected  on  a  number 
of  abutments,  and  extending  out  into  the  deep  brine.  As  you 
pass  along  its  stalls,  on  which  are  exposed  for  sale  variegated  sea- 
shells,  splendidly  polished  stones  of  brilliant  colors,  and  inge- 
niously constructed  articles  for  the  work-box  or  toilet  arrest  the 
eye,  and  you  stop  to  purchase  a  memento  of  the  place.  The  pier 
is  of  no  great  utility,  and  is  to  Brighton  what  the  Thames  Tunnel 
is  to  London,  a  monument  of  engineering  skill,  and  an  evidence 


388  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY; 

of  what  man  can  do,  rather  tlian  a  work  from  which  the  public 
derive  any  benefit.  The  inhabitants  of  the  city  (for  so  it  may  be 
called,  although  in  England  that  designation  belongs  only  to  the 
town  claiming  a  bishop)  are  agreeable  and  hospitable;  at  least 
I  found  them  so,  and,  after  a  day's  examination  of  the  most 
interesting  places  in  the  town,  I  passed  an  evening  in  the  com- 
pany of  a  gentleman  belonging  to  it  who  received  his  edu- 
cation at  the  famous  London  Blue  Coat  School.  He  was  a  cheer- 
ful companion,  an  intelligent  man,  and  an  admirer  of  America. 
The  bright  sea-coal  fire  in  mine  inn  parlor  added  to  the  comfort  of 
the  room,  and  as  the  hours  stole  on  we  enjoyed  the  occasion,  and 
grew  glorious  over  poetry,  speech,  and  drama.  The  Brightonian 
was  proud  of  his  Alma  Mater,  and  delighted  in  being  a  graduate 
of  that  institution  within  whose  walls  Coleridge,  Charles  Lamb, 
and  Leigh  Hunt  drank  from  the  stream  of  learning.  He  warmed 
when  it  was  mentioned,  eulogized  its  advantages,  and  drank  its 
prosperity  in  a  stoup  of  Burgundy,  while  I  did  the  same  in  a  cup 
of  Souchong,  when  we  parted  for  the  night.  Morning  found  me 
in  London  ;  he  in  bed,  probably,  for  I  never  heard  of  him  more, 
and  know  no  more  cither  of  him  or  of  Brighton. 


OR;  WANDERINGS  Or  AN  AMERICAN. 


CHAPTER    XLIY. 

FAREWELL  TO  ENGLAND. 

My  wanderings,  as  detailed  in  this  volume,  are  now  ended ; 
but  while  on  the  eve  of  bidding  adieu  to  "  Fatherland,"  I  feel 
obliged  to  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  to  James  McHenry,  Esq., 
of  Liverpool,  for  his  friendship  to  me.  His  gentlemanly  deport- 
ment, kindness  of  heart,  and  amiability  of  character  endear  him  to 
all  who  know  him,  and  he  is  an  honor  to  his  native  land,  as  well 
as  a  representative  in  Europe  of  the  American  merchant,  of  whom 
his  brethren  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  may  be  proud. 

The  deck  of  a  liner  leaving  Liverpool  for  the  United  States 
presents  a  scene  of  bustle  and  confusion  of  a  remarkable  cha- 
racter. The  throng  of  emigrants,  huddled  in  a  particular  place; 
the  song  of  the  sailors;  the  authoritative  orders  of  the  officers; 
and  the  running  to  and  fro  of  the  men  in  the  performance  of  their 
duty,  commingled  with  other  sounds  not  readily  described,  make 
up  a  scene  calculated  to  confound  the  clearest  head.  As  the  ves- 
sel slowly  moves  from  her  dock,  surrounded  by  a  fleet  of  similar 
craft  that  wedge  her  so  closely  on  all  sides  as  to  cause  you  to 
wonder  how  she  is  to  be  extricated,  the  confusion  increases ;  and 
by  the  time  she  clears  the  gates  and  gains  the  river,  it  has  reached 
its  height.  The  close  of  the  day  is  usually  chosen  for  departure, 
and  as  the  ship  moves  down  stream  the  voyager  literally  bids  the 
town  good-night.  We  drew  out  at  such  time,  but  in  consequence 
of  a  death  on  board,  that  of  the  child  of  one  of  the  emigrants,  the 
ship  was  obliged  to  anchor  until  morning,  so  as  to  send  the  body 
ashore.  Day  dawned  in  mist ;  and  when  I  went  on  deck,  soon 
after  sunrise,  the  sailors  were  lowering  the  corpse  into  a  boat, 
which  lay  along-side,  to  convey  it  away.  The  captain  and  some 
men  entered  the  yawl,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were  lost  to  sight  in 


390  THE  FOOTPATH  AND  HIGHWAY  ; 

the  fog  as  they  pulled  shoreward.  Death,  on  the  very  threshold 
of  the  voyage,  was  not  regarded  as  a  favorable  omen. 

The  piping  of  the  winds  through  the  cordage,  and  the  dash  of 
waters,  chafed  and  angry,  united  with  the  roll  of  the  vessel,  soon 
convince  a  man  that  he  is  on  the  deep.  We  passed  Great  Ormes 
Head,  and  the  shores  of  Anglesea,  and  then  bade  adieu  to  Old 
England.  Farewell,  I  murmured,  as  the  hazy  outline  of  the 
"Welsh  highlands  slowly  blended  with  the  waves  and  sky — fare- 
well, land  of  chivalry  and  song  !  I  love  thee,  proud  Albion,  and 
in  my  heart  dwells  a  hope  to  behold  thee  once  again.  I  came  to 
thee  a  wanderer,  and  found  among  thy  sons  and  daughters  friends, 
whose  hearts  were  warm,  and  whose  souls  were  true.  In  the 
shadow  of  thy  ruins,  in  the  solitude  of  thy  moors,  in  the  aisles  of 
thy  cathedrals,  I  drank  in  the  spirit  of  poesy ;  and  my  heart  beat 
high  with  indescribable  emotions.  I  felt  as  a  pilgrim  at  a  sacred 
shrine,  when  I  stood  beside  the  graves  of  thy  wonderful  and  thy 
great ;  and  the  recollection  of  the  scenes  enacted  within  thy  bor- 
ders— scenes  stamped  upon  the  pages  of  history,  and  pictured  in 
the  poet's  song — made  my  heart  thrill  when  I  could  realize  the 
truth  that  I  was  treading  on  thy  soil. 

Thy  faults  and  virtues  are  many ;  inequality  and  oppression 
dwell  with  thee ;  but,  though  thy  artisan  is  cast  down,  and  thy 
peasant  debased,  still  thy  soil  is  freedoms  soil;  and  from  thy 
shores  goes  forth  the  only  voice  of  liberty  heard  in  Europe.  Pro- 
gress is  busy  with  thy  people;  the  one-man  power  is  declining; 
and  the  toiling  many  are  braving  the  titled  few.  That  spirit 
which  actuated  the  men  who  left  thee  exiles,  to  defy  the  tempest 
and  battle  with  the  dangers  of  an  inhospitable  clime  and  forest 
lands,  rather  than  suffer  the  tyrant's  chains,  is  burning  within  thy 
sons ;  and  although  centuries  are  on  thy  brow,  thy  manhood  is 
not  yet.  A  hale  and  vigorous  i/outh  is  thine.  Decay  has  left  no 
marks  upon  thee ;  and  although  thine  enemies  wish  thy  overthrow, 
and  point  with  complacency  to  what  thoy  are  pleased  to  call  thy 
decline,  the  close  observer,  who  visits  thy  shores  from  other  lands, 
sees  nothing  in  thee  indicative  of  a  speedy  fall.  If  the  casting 
aside  of  follies  and  semi-barbarism — the  spurning  of  the  divinity 
of  kings,  and  the  adoration  of  nobles — and  the  expulsion  of  the 


OR,  WANDERINGS  OP  AN  AMERICAN.  391 

rule  of  ignorance — be  evidences  of  decay,  then  thou  art  decaying. 
But  no ;  these  speak  loudly  for  thy  future.  Brute  force  is  giving 
way  to  reason ;  intellect  is  superseding  rank  and  patents  of  no- 
bility; mind  is  becoming  supreme,  and  justice  asserting  her 
right.  Revolution,  silent  and  peaceful — the  revolution  of  reason, 
not  passion — is  progressing  on  thy  soil,  and  among  thy  people; 
and  though  the  advancement  is  slow,  it  is  sure ;  and  even  now 
its  fruits  are  visible. 

A  few  years  hence,  and  thy  masses  will  assert  their  rights,  and 
sweep  away  that  aristocracy  which  has  ever  been  thy  curse.  Then 
thy  manhood  will  dawn,  and  England  and  freedom  will  be  synony- 
mous terms  over  all  the  earth. 

The  waves  are  around  me  now ;  and  farewell  to  England  !  The 
ship  feels  the  breeze,  and  bows  cheerfully  to  its  pressure.  The 
white  sails  are  full;  the  sailors  are  singing  aloft,  and  the  emi- 
grants fretting  below. 


THE  END. 


~      CATALOGUE 

OF 

YALUABLE   BOOKS, 

PUBLISHED    BY 

LIPPINCOTT,   GRAMBO  &  CO., 

(SUCCESSORS  TO  GRIGG,  ELLIOT  &  CO.) 

NO.  14    KORTII  FOURTH  STREET,  PHILADELPHIA; 

CONSISTING  OF  A  LARGE  ASSORTMENT  OP 

Bibles,  Prayer-Books,  Commentaries,  Standard  Poets, 
MEDICAL,  THEOLOGICAL  AND  MISCELLANEOUS  WORKS,  ETC., 

PARTICULARLY   SUITABLE   FOR 

PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  LIBEARIES. 

FOB  SALE  BY  BOOKSELLERS  AND  COUNTRY  MERCHANTS  GENERALLY  THROUGH- 
OUT THE  UNITED  STATES. 


THE  BEST  &  MOST  C0MPL1ET_E  FAMILY  COMMENTARY. 
The  Comprehensive  Commentary  on  the  Holy  Bible; 

OONTAININQ 

THE  TEXT  ACCORDING  "[p  THE  AUTHORIZED  VERSION, 

SCOTT'S  MARGINAL  REFERENCES;  MATTHEW  HENRY'S  COMMENTARY, 

CONDENSED,    BUT   RETAINING   EVERY   USEFUL  THOUGHT;  THE 

FEACTICAL  OBSERVATIONS  OF  REV.  THOMAS  SCOTT,  D.  D. ; 

WITH    EXTENSIVE 

EXPLANATORY,  CRITICAL  AND  PHILOLOGICAL  NOTES, 

Selected  from  Scott,  Doddridge,  Gill,  Adam  Clarke,  Patrick,  Poole,  Lowth, 
Burder,  Harmer,  Calmet,  Rosenmueller,  Bloomfield,  Stuart,  Bush,  Dwight, 
and  many  other  writers  on  the  Scriptures. 

The  whole  designed  to  be  a  digest  and  combination  of  the  advantages  of 
the  best  Bible  Commentaries,  and  embracing  nearly  all  that  is  valuable  in 

HENRY,  SCOTT,  AND  DODDRIDGE. 

Conveniently  arranged  for  family  and  private  reading,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
particularly  adapted  to  the  wants  of  Sabbath- School  Teachers  and  Bible 
Classes ;  with  numerous  useful  tables,  and  a  neatly  engraved  Family  Record. 

Edited  by  Rev.  William  Jenks,  D.  D., 

PASTOR  OF  GREEN  STREET  CHURCH,  BOSTON. 

Embellished  with  five  portraits,  and  other  elegant  engravings,  from  stetf' 
plates ;  with  several  maps  and  many  wood-cuts,  illustrative  of  Scripture 
Manners,  Customs,  Antiquities,  &c.    In  6>ols.  super- royal  8vo. 
Including  Supplement,  bound  in  cloth,  sheep,  calf,  &c.,  varying  in 
Price  from  $10  to  $15. 
The  whole  forming  the  most  valuable  as  well  as  the  cheapest  Commentary 
published  in  the  world. 
A  1 


LIFPINCOTT,  QOAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
NOTICES  AND  RECOMMENDATIONS 

OF   TUE 

COMPllEHENSIVE  COMMENTARY. 

The  Publishers  select  the  following  from  the  testimonials  they  hare  received 
as  to  the  value  of  the  work : 

W^e,  the  subscribers,  havini;  examined  the  Comprehensive  Commentary,  issued  from  the  pre«i  of 
Messrs.  L.,  G.  Si.  Co.,  and  highly  approving  iU  character,  would  cheerfully  and  confldently  recom- 
mend it  w  containing  more  matter  and  more  advantages  than  any  other  with  which  we  ar« 
acquainted ;  and  considering  the  expense  incurred,  and  the  excellent  manner  of  its  mechanical 
execution,  we  believe  it  to  be  one  of  the  cheapest  works  ever  issued  from  the  press.  We  hope  the 
publishers  will  be  sustained  by  a  liberal  patronage,  in  their  expensive  and  useful  undertaking.  We 
should  be  pleased  to  learn  that  every  family  in  the  United  States  had  procured  a  copy. 

B.  B.  WISN  ER,  I).  D.,  Secretary  of  Am.  Board  of  Com.  for  For.  Missions. 

WM.  COGSWELL,  D.  D.,      -  "    Education  Society. 

JOHN  COD.MAN,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Congregational  Church,  Dorchester. 

Rev.  HUBBAKD  WINSLOW,  "  »        Bowdoin  street,  Dorcheitei. 

Rev.  SEWALL  HARDING.  Pastor  of  T.  C.  Church,  Waltham. 

Rev.  J.  H.  FAIRCHILD,  Pastor  of  Congregational  Church,  South  Boston. 

6ARDIMER  SPRING,  D.  0.,  Pastor  of  Presbyterian  Church,  New  York  city. 

CYRUS  MASON,  D.  D.,  "    •  "  *•  «  « 

THOS.  M'AULEY,  D.  D.,  "  ..  -  «  « 

JOHN  WOODBRIDGE,  D.  D.,     -  "  -  -  « 

THOS.  DEW  ITT,  D.  D.,  "  Dutch  Ref.        "  «  - 

E.  W.  BALDWIN,  D.  D.,  •  "  "  •  • 

Rev.  J.  M.  M'KREBS,  -  Presbyterian      "  -  - 

Rev.  ERSKINE  MASON.  "  ••  "  «  - 

Rev.  J.  S.  SPENCER,  •  «  «         BrtK.klyn. 

EZRA  STILES  ELY,  D.  D.,  Stated  Clerk  of  Gen.  Assem.  of  Presttyterian  Chorck. 

JOHN  M'DOWELL.D.  D.,  Permanent  "  "  «  - 

JOHN  BRECKENRIDGE,  CoiTespondmg  Secretary  of  Assembly's  Board  of  EducaUo^ 

SAMUEL  B.  WYLIE,  D.  D..  Pastor  of  the  Reformed  Presbyterian  Church. 

N.  LORD,  D.  D.,  President  of  Dartmouth  College. 

JOSHUA  BATES,  D.  D.,  President  of  MiddleGury  College. 

H.  HUMPHREY,  D.  D.,  "  Amherst  College. 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN,  D.  D.,  •  Williamstown  College. 

J.  WHEELER,  D.  D.,  "  University  of  Vermont,  at  Borlington. 

J,  M.  MATTHEWS,  D.  D.,    "  New  York  City  University. 

GbJORGB  E.  PIERCE.  D.  D.,  *•  Western  Reserve  College,  Ohia 

Rev.  Dr.  BROWN,  "  Jefferson  College,  Penn. 

LEONARD  WOODS,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Theology,  Andover  Seminwy. 

THOS.  H.  SKINNER,  D.  D.,       «  Sac.  Rhet.       -  - 

Rev.  RALPH  EMERSON,  -  EccL  Hist. 

Rev.  JOEL  PARKER,  Pastor  of  Presbyterian  Church,  New  Orleana. 

JOEL  HAWES,  f).  D.,      "  Congregational  Church,  Hartford,  Couk. 

N.  S.  S.  BEAMAN,  D,  D.,  -  Presbyterian  Church,  Troy,  N.  Y. 

MARK  TUCKER,  1).  D.,"  -  m  «        « 

Rev.  E.  N.  KIRK,  -  -  ■        Albany,  N.  T. 

Rev.  E.  B.  EDWARDS,  F.ditor  of  Quarterly  Observer. 

Rev.  STEPHEN  MASON.  Pastor  First  Congregntional  ChnrcJj,  Nantucket. 

Rev.  OR  IN  FOWLER,  -         ..  «  «        y^^  Ri^^^ 

GEORGK  W.  BETHUNE.  D.  D.,  Pa.<itor  of  the  First  Reformed  Dutch  Chureh,  PhlkklB. 

Rev.  LYMAN  BEECHER,  D.  D.,  Cincmiiati.  Ohio. 

Rev.  C.  D.  MALLORY,  Pa.<itor  Baptist  Churcli.  AugusU,  Oa. 

Rev.  S.  M.  NOEL,  «  «  «        Franlifort,  Ky. 

FVom  tht  PrufKMSon  at  Princeton  Thtolomml  Srminnri. 
The  Comprehensive  Commentary  contains  the  whole  of  Henry's  £zpontion  in  a  oondenaad  fans, 
Boott's  Practical  OlMtervntions  and  Marginal  References,  and  a  larg«  number  of  vary  valiiabU  phil^ 
logical  and  cnt ical  notes,  selectrd  from  various  authors.  The  wuilc  appeara  to  be  ezeeotad  w1t« 
judgment,  fldelity,  and  care ;  and  will  fiimiiih  a  nch  trea.^ure  of  scriptural  knowledge  to  Um 
Biblical  student,  and  to  the  loachers  of  Sabbath-Schools  and  Bible  Classes. 

"  ▲.  ALEXANDER.  D.  D. 

SAMUEL  MILLER.  D.  D. 
CHARLES  HODOE,  D.  D 
1 

s 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
In  one   super-royal  volume. 

DESIGNED   TO   ACCOMPANY 

THE  FAMILY  BIBLE, 

OR  HENRY'S,  SCOTT'S.  CLARKE'S,  GILL'S,  OR  OTHER  COMMENTARIES! 

CONTAININO 

1.  A  new,  full,  and  complete  Concordance; 

niustrated  with  monumental,  traditional,  and  oriental  engravings,  founded  on  Butterworth's,  with 
Cruden's  definitions;  forming,  it  is  believed, on  many  accounts,  a  more  valuable  work  than  either 
Butierworth,  Cruden,  or  any  other  similar  booii  in  the  language. 

l"he  value  of  a  Concordance  is  now  generally  understood ;  and  those  who  have  used  one,  cod- 
Bider  it  indispensable  m  connection  with  the  Bible. 

2.  A  Guide  to  the  Reading  and  Study  of  the  Bible ; 

being  Carpenter's  valuable  Biblical  Companion,  lately  published  in  London,  containing  a  complete 
history  of  the  Bible,  and  formnig  a  most  excellent  introduction  to  its  study.  It  embraces  the  evi- 
dences of  Christiamly,  Jewish  antiquities,  manners,  customs,  arts,  natural  history,  &c.,  of  the  Bible, 
with  notes  and  engravings  added. 

3.  Complete  Biographies  of  Henry,  by  Williams;  Scott,  by  his 
son ;  Doddridge,  by  Orton ; 

with  sketches  of  the  lives  and  characters,  and  notices  of  the  works,  of  the  writers  on  the  Scriptorea 
who  are  quoted  in  the  Commentary,  living  and  dead,  American  and  foreign. 

This  part  of  the  volume  not  only  afiPords  a  large  quantity  of  interesting  and  useful  reading  for 
pious  families,  but  will  al.so  be  a  source  of  gratification  to  all  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  consult- 
ing the  Commentary;  every  one  naturally  feeling  a  desire  to  know  some  particulars  of  the  lives  and 
characters  of  tliose  whose  opinions  he  seeks.     Appended  to  this  part,  will  be  a 

BIBLIOTHECA  BIBLICA, 

or  list  of  the  best  works  on  the  Bible,  of  all  kinds,  arranged  under  their  appropriate  heads. 

4.  A  complete  Index  of  the  Matter  contained  in  the  Bible  Text. 
5.  A  Symbolical  Dictionary. 

A  very  comprehensive  and  valuable  Dictionary  of  Scripture  Symbols,  (occupying  about  fifty-six 
closely  printed  pages.)  by  Thomas  Wemyss,  (author  of  "  Biblical  Gleanings,"  <kc.)  Comprising 
DaubDZ,  Lancaster,  Hutcheson,  <kc. 

6.  The  Work  contains  several  other  Articles, 

Indexes,  Tables,  <fec.  <kc.,  and  is, 

7.  Dlustratcd  by  a  large  Plan  of  Jerusalem, 

identifying,  as  far  as  tradition,  <fec.,  go,  the  original  sites,  drawn  on  the  spot  by  F.  Catherwood,  of 
London,  architect.  Also,  two  steel  engravings  of  portraits  of  seven  foreign  and  eight  American 
theological  writers,  and  numerous  wood  engravings. 

The  whole  forms  a  desirable  and  necessary  fund  of  instruction  for  the  use  not  only  of  clergymen 
and  Sabbath -school  teachers,  but  also  for  families.  When  the  great  amount  of  matter  it  must 
contain  is  considered,  it  will  be  deemed  exceedingly  cheap. 

"  I  have  examined  'The  Companion  to  the  Bil)le,'and  have  been  surprised  to  find  so  much  inform- 
ation introduced  mU)  a  voliuix-  of  so  iriodnraie  n  size.  It  contains  a  library  of  sacred  knowledge 
and  criticism.  It  will  l)e  useful  to  ministers  who  own  large  libraries,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  an 
invaluable  help  to  every  resuler  of  the  Bible."  HE.NRY  MORRIS, 

Pastor  of  Congregational  Church,  Vermont 

TIk*  above  work  can  bo  had  in  several  styles  of  binding.     Price  varying 
from  $1  75  to  $5  00. 

3 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  THE  HOLY  SCRIPTURES, 

In  one  super-royal  volume. 

DERIVED  PRINCIPALLY  FROM  THE  MANNERS,  CUSTOMS,  ANTIQUITIES,  TRADITIONS, 
AND  FORMS  OF  SPEECH,  RITES,  CLIMATE,  WORKS  OP  ART,  AND 

LITERATURE  OF  THE  EASTERN  NATIONS : 

EMBODYING    ALL   THAT    IS    VALUABLE    IN   THE    WORKS   OP 

ROBERTS,  HARZAER,  BURDER,  PAXTON,  CHANDLER, 

And  the  most  celebrated  oriental  trav«Uen.    Embracing  also  the  subject  of  the  Falfilmtnt  ot 

Prophecy,  as  exhibited  by  Keith  and  othen ;  with  descriptions  of  the  present  state 

of  countries  and  places  mentioned  in  the   Sacred  Writing. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  NUMEROUS  LANDSCAPE  ENGRAVINGS, 

FEOM     SKETCHES     TAKEN    ON    TDK    SPOT. 

Edited  by  Rev.  George  Busn, 

Professor  of  Hebrew  and  Oriental  Literature  in  the  New  York^City  University. 

The  importance  of  this  work  must  be  obvious,  and,  being  altofrether  tUuatratrve,  without  refereno* 
to  doctrines,  or  other  points  in  which  Chnstians  differ,  it  is  hoped  it  will  meet  with  favour  from  all 
who  love  the  sacred  volume,  and  that  it  will  be  sufficiently  interesting  and  attractive  to  recommend 
itself,  not  only  to  professed  Christians  of  aU  denominations,  but  also  to  the  general  reader.  The 
arrangement  of  the  texts  illustrated  with  the  notes,  in  the  order  of  the  chapters  and  verees  of  tha 
authorized  version  of  the  Bible,  will  render  it  convenient  for  reference  to  particular  paHifea; 
while  the  copwus  Index  at  the  end  will  at  once  enable  the  reader  to  turn  to  every  sabject  diacooed 
in  the  volume. 

Thu  volume  is  not  desiynrd  to  take  the  place  of  Commentaries,  but  is  a  dvttnct  department  of  bibheal 
instruction,  and  mav  f>e  used  as  a  companion  to  the  Compreheiisive  or  any  other  Commentary,  or  (iW 
Holy  Bible. 

THE  ENGRAVINGS 

in  this  volume,  it  is  believed,  will  form  no  small  part  of  its  attractions.  No  pains  have  been  ipwl 
to  procure  such  as  should  embellish  the  work,  and,  at  the  same  time,  illustrate  the  text  Otqae. 
tions  thnt  have  been  made  to  the  pictures  commonly  introduced  luto  the  Bible,  as  being  mere  en^ 
tions  of  fancy  and  the  imo^nation,  oRen  unlike  nature,  and  frequently  conveying  false  unpreakM% 
cannot  be  urged  against  the  pictonal  Ulustnitious  of  this  volume.  Here  the  fine  arts  tra  mate 
subservient  to  utility,  the  landscape  views  being,  without  an  exception,  wtatter-of-fact  mam  offiaem 
menttoned  in  Scripture,  as  they  appear  at  the  present  day;  thus  in  many  instances  exhibiting,  in  tha 
mntit  forcible  manner,  (o  the  eye,  the  strict  and  literal  fulfilment  of  tha  remarkable  propheciea;  "tha 
presKiit  rumcd  and  desolate  condition  of  the  cities  of  Babylon,  Nmeveh,  Selah,  6tc.,  and  the  eoun- 
trios  of  Edom  and  Egypt,  are  astonisbing  examples,  and  so  completely  exemplify,  in  tha  moat 
minute  particulars,  every  thing  which  was  foretold  of  them  in  tha  height  of  Uieir  pmapenty,  that 
no  better  description  can  now  b«  given  of  them  than  a  sunple  quotation  from  a  chapter  and  versa 
of  the  Uible  writUtn  nearly  two  or  thxe«  thousand  years  ago."  Tha  pubhshera  sre  enabled  to  salaol 
from  several  collections  lately  published  in  Lontioo,  the  proprietor  of  one  of  which  says  that  **  sav»- 
ral  distinguished  travellers  have  afforded  him  tha  use  of  nearly  TVer  Htmdrtd  Ontmal  SketekuT 
of  S<*ripture  places,  made  U|ion  the  spot.  "  The  land  of  Palektme,  it  is  wall  known,  abounds  in 
scenes  of  the  must  picturesque  beauty.  Syna  comprehenUa  tha  snuwy  hatfhta  of  LabaaoB,  and  tha 
majestic  ruins  of  Tadnior  and  Uanniec." 
The  above  work  can  be  had  in  various  styles  of  binding. 

Price  from  01  50  to  $5  00. 


THE  ILLUSTRATED  CONCORDANCE, 

In  one  volume,  royal  8vo. 

A  new,  full,  and  cxtmplrte  Conconliuice ;  tllustmted  with  monumental,  trnditloBal,  and  oriantal 
engrnviUCT,  foundrd  on  Butlerworth's,  with  Crudon's  dennitions;  forming,  it  is  bflieved,  on  ina«f 
accounts,  a  more  valuable  work  than  either  Butt«rworth,  Cruden,  or  any  other  similar  book  la  Ilia 
langunge. 

The  value  of  a  Concordance  Is  now  generally  understood  ;  and  thoaa  who  have  need  ona,  oe»* 
ndcr  it  in<liN;ien!int)lo  in  coniu'ction  with  the  Bible.  Some  of  the  nisny  advantagps  the  Itliistratad 
ConcofdaiH-e  tins  over  all  the  otliers,  are,  that  it  c«)nlaina  near  two  hundred  approptiata  i 
it  is  pnntod  on  flue  white  paper,  with  l)oautinil  large  lyi>o. 

Price  One  Dollar. 
4 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
LIPPINCOTT'S  EDITION  OF 

BAGSTEB'S  COMPREHENSIVE  BIBLE. 

In  order  to  develoi«e  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  Ck)mprehensive  Bible,  it  will  only  l»e  necessary 
to  embrace  its  mcire  prominent  features. 

1st.  The  SACRED  TEXT  is  that  of  the  Authorized  Version,  and  is  printed  from  the  edition  cor- 
rected and  imj>roved  by  Dr.  Blaney,  which,  from  its  accuracy,  is  considered  the  standard  edition. 

2il.  The  VARIOUS  READINGS  are  faithfully  printed  from  the  edition  of  Dr.  Bianey,  inclusive 
of  the  translation  of  the  proper  names,  without  the  addition  or  diminution  of  one. 

3d.  In  the  CHRONOLOGY,  great  care  has  been  taken  to  fix  the  date  of  the  particular  transao 
tions,  which  has  seldom  been  done  with  any  degree  of  exactness  in  any  former  edition  of  the  Bible. 

4th.  The  NOTES  are  exclusively  philological  and  explanatory,  and  are  not  tinctured  with  senti- 
ments of  any  sect  or  party.  They  are  selected  from  the  most  eminent  BibLcal  critics  and  cem- 
nientators. 

It  is  hoped  that  this  edition  of  the  Holy  Bible  will  be  found  to  contain  the  essence  of  Biblical 
research  and  criticism,  that  lies  dispersed  through  an  immense  number  of  volumes. 

Such  is  the  nature  and  design  of  this  edition  of  the  Sacred  Volume,  which,  from  the  various 
objects  it  embraces,  the  freedom  of  its  pages  from  all  sectarian  jiecnliarities.  and  the  beauty,  plain- 
ness, and  correctness  of  the  typography,  tliat  it  cannot  fail  of  proving  acceptable  and  useful  to 
Christians  of  every  denomination. 

In  addition  to  the  usual  references  to  parallel  passages,  which  are  quite  full  and  numerous,  the 
student  has  all  the  marginal  readings,  together  with  a  rich  selection  of  Philological,  Critical,  Kisto- 
ricnl,  Geographical,  and  other  valual)le  notes  and  remarks,  which  explain  and  illustrate  the  sacred 
text.  Besides  the  general  introduction,  containing  valuable  essays  on  the  genuineness,  authenticity, 
and  inspiration  of  tlie  Holy  Scriptures,  and  other  topics  of  interest,  there  are  introductory  and  con- 
cluding remarks  to  each  book— a  table  of  the  contents  of  the  Bible,  by  which  the  different  portions 
are  so  arranged  as  to  read  m  an  historical  order. 

Arranged  at  the  top  of  each  page  is  the  period  in  which  the  prominent  events  of  sacred  history 
took  place.  The  calculations  are  made  for  the  year  of  the  world  before  and  after  Christ,  Julian 
Period,  the  year  of  the  Olympiad,  the  year  of  the  building  of  Rome,  and  other  notations  of  time. 
At  the  close  is  inserted  a  Chronological  Index  of  the  Bible,  according  to  the  computation  of  Arch- 
bishop Ussher.  Also,  a  full  and  valuable  index  of  the  subjects  contained  in  the  Old  and  New  Tester 
ments,  with  a  careful  analysis  and  arrangement  of  texts  under  their  appropriate  subjects. 

Mr.  Greenfield,  the  editor  of  this  work,  and  for  some  time  previous  to  his  death  the  superintend- 
ent of  the  editorial  department  of  the  Brili.sh  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  was  a  most  extraordinary 
man.  In  editing  the  Comprehensive  Bible,  liis  varied  and  extensive  learning  was  called  into  suc- 
cessful exercise,  and  appears  in  happy  combination  with  sincer«»  piety  and  a  sound  judgment.  The 
Editor  of  the  Christian  Observer,  alluding  to  this  work,  in  an  obituary  notice  of  its  author,  speaks 
of  it  as  a  work  of  "  prodigious  labour  and  research,  at  once  exhibiting  his  varied  talents  and  pro- 
found erudition." 


LIPPINCOTT'S  EDITION  OF 

THE  OXFORD  QUARTO  BIBLE. 

The  Publishers  have  spared  neither  care  nor  expense  in  their  edition  of  the  Bible;  it  is  printed 
en  the  finest  white  vellum  paper,  with  large  and  beautiful  type,  and  bound  in  the  most  sutetantial 
and  splendid  manner,  m  the  following  styles :  Velvet,  with  richly  gilt  ornaments ;  Turkey  super 
e^tra,  with  gilt  clasps ;  and  in  numerous  others,"  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  most  fastidious. 

OPINIONS    OF   THE    PRESS. 

"In  our  opinion,  the  Christian  public  generally  will  feel  under  great  obligations  to  the  publishers 
of  this  work  for  the  lieautiful  taste,  arrangement,  and  "delicate  neatne.ss  with  which  they  have  got 
it  out.  The  intrinsic  merit  of  the  Bible  reconmiends  itself;  it  needs  no  tinsel  ornament  to  adorn 
its  sacred  pages.  In  this  edition  every  sujjerflnous  ornament  has  been  avoided,  and  we  have  pr«»- 
sented  us  a  perfectly  chaste  specimen  of  the  Bible,  without  note  or  rxjmment.  It  appears  to  bejusl 
what  is  needed  in  every  family— 'the  unsophisticated  word  of  God.' 

"The  size  is  quarto,  printed  with  beautiful  type, on  white, sized  vellum  paper,of  the  finest  texture 
and  most  beautiful  surface.  The  publishers  seem  to  have  been  solicitous  to  make  a  perfectly 
unique  liook,  and  they  have  accomplished  the  object  very  successfully.  We  trust  that  a  liberal 
community  will  aflford  them  ample  remuneration  for  all  the  expense  and  outlay  they  have  necossa 
rily  incurred  in  its  publication.     It  is  a  .standard  Bible. 

"The  piiblishers  are  Messrs.  Lippincolt,  Grambo  <t  Co.,  No.  14  North  Fourth  street,  Philadel- 
phia."—Btfp/w/  Record. 

"A  neautiful  quarto  edition  of  the  Bible,  by  L.,  G.  <St  Co.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  type  in  clear 
nesH  and  beauty;  the  paper  is  of  the  fiijest  texture,  ami  the  whole  execution  is  exceedingly  neat 
No  illustrations  or  oniamenlal  type  are  used.  Those  who  prefer  a  Bible  executed  in  perfect  sini- 
phcity.  yet  eleirance  of  style,  witliout  adornment,  wail  probably  never  fmd  one  more  to  their  tasU  " 
—  M.  Alnoazitie. 

A*  A 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


LIPPINCOTT'S  EDITIONS  OF 

THE   HOLY   BIBLE. 

SIX  DIFFERENT  SIZES. 

Printed  in  the  beat  manner,  with  beautiful  type,  on  the  finest  sized  paper,  and  bound  in  the  moat 
■plendid  and  substantial  styles.  Warranted  to  be  correct,  and  equal  to  the  best  English  editions,  at 
much  less  price.  To  1)€  had  with  or  without  plates ;  the  publishers  liaving  supplied  theinselTea  with 
over  fifty  steel  engravings,  by  the  first  artista. 

Baxter's  Comprehensive  Bible, 

Royal  quarto,  containing  the  various  readings  and  marginal  notes ;  disquisitions  on  the  genutnenoHit 
authenticity,  and  in.spiration  of  the  Holy  Scriptures;  iiitnxluctory  and  concluding  remarks  to  wach 
book ;  philological  and  explanatory  notes ;  table  ot  contents,  arranged  in  historical  order;  a  chro- 
nological index,  and  various  other  matter ;  forming  a  suitable  book  for  the  study  of  clergymen. 
Sabbath-school  teachers,  and  students. 

ki  neat  plain  binding,  from  t4  00  to  15  00.  — In  Turkey  morocco,  extra,  gilt  edges,  from  t8  00  te 
•12  00.  —  In  do.,  with  splendid  plates.  110  00  to  $15  00.  —  In  do.,  bevelled  side,  gilt  daspe  and  ill»- 
minations,  115  00  to  $25  00. 

The  Oxford  Quarto  Bible, 

Withont  note  or  comment,  universally  admitted  to  be  the  most  beaatiful  Bible  extant 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  t4  00  to  $5  00.  —  In  Turkey  morocco,  extra,  gilt  edges,  $8  00  to  112  Oa 
—  In  do.,  with  steel  engravings,  $10  00  to  $15  00. —  In  do.,  clasps,  <kc.,  with  plates  and  iUumma- 
tions,  $15  00  to  $25  00.  — In  rich  velvet,  with  gilt  omamonUi,  $25  00  to  $50  00. 

Crown  Octavo  Bible, 

Printed  with  large  clear  type,  making  a  most  convenient  hand  Bible  for  family  aia 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  75  cents  to  $1  SO.  —  in  English  Turkey  morocco,  gilt  edges,  $1  00  to 
12  00.  — In  do.,  imitation,  <kc.,  $1  60  to  $3  00.  — In  do.,  clasps,  Ac.,  $2  60  to  $5  00.  — In  richvel^wt, 
with  gilt  ornaments,  $5  00  to  $10  00. 

The  Sunday- School  Teacher's  Polyglot  Bible,  with  Maps,  &c., 

In  neat  plain  binding,  from  60  cenU  to  $1  00.  —  In  imitation  gilt  edge,  $1  00  to  $1  50.  —  In  Turkey, 
■uper  extra,  $1  75  to  $2  25.  — In  do.  do.,  with  clasps,  $2  60  to  $3  75.  — In  velvet,  rich  gilt  orna- 
ments, $3  50  to  $8  00. 

The  Oxford  18mo.,  or  Pew  Bible, 

In  neat  plain  binding,  from  50  cents  to  $1  00.  —  In  imitation  gilt  edge.  $1  00  to  $1  50.  —  In  Turkey 
•uper  extra,  $1  75  to  $2  25.  — In  do.  do,  with  clasps.  $2  60  to  $3  78.  — In  velvet,  rich  gdl  onu 
meats,  $3  50  to  $8  00. 

Agate  32mo.  Bible, 

Printed  with  larger  type  than  any  other  small  or  pocket^dition  extant. 
In  neat  plain  bmdiug.  from  .10  cents  to  $1  00.  —  In  Hicks,  or  i>orket-b<v»k  style.  75  cents  to  $1  00.- 
In  roan,  imitation  gilt  edge,  $1  00  to  $1  50.  —  In  Turkey,  sui.er  extra,  $1  00  to  $2  oa  — In  da  d* 
filt  clasps,  $2  50  to  $3  60.  — In  velvet,  with  rich  gilt  ornanirnU,  $3  00  to  $7  00. 

32rao.  Diamond  Pocket  Bible; 

I'he  neatest,  smallest,  and  chea[>est  edition  of  the  Bible  published 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  30  to  50  cents.  -In  tucks,  or  pocket-book  style,  00  rents  to  $1  OOi- 
In  roan,  imitulion  gilt  edge,  75cent8  to  $1  25.  — In  Turkey,  super  extra,  $1  O0to$l  50.  — In  da  do 
gilt  clasiis,  $1  SO  to  $2  00.  — In  velvet,  with  richly  Rilt  oriiameuts,  $2  SO  to  $6  00. 

CONSTANTLY  ON  HAND, 
A  Jerge  assortment  of  niBl.KS,  lioiiiul  m  the  most  splendid  and  octly  styles,  with  gold  uid  dv«i 
ornaments,  suitable  for  prf.«;i-ntation ;  ranging  in  price  fVom  $10  00  to  $100  00. 
A  liberal  discount  made  to  Booksellers  and  Agents  by  the  ruMuhere. 

ENCYCLOP/EDIA  OF  RELIGIOUS  KNOWLEDGE; 

OR,  DICTIONARY  OF  THK  HIHLE.  THEOLOGY,  KELIGIOUS  lUOGRAl'llY.  ALL  RELIGIONS, 
ECCl.KSIASTK'AL  HISTOFtY,  AND  MIS.SIONS. 
Designed  as  n  complete  Book  of  Reference  on  all  Rcllgiotis  Subjrrt.*,  and  Compeokwi  to  the  Bible ; 
lorming  a  cheap  niul  compact  l^iliniry  of  Kcligious  KnowU-dge.  Edited  by  Rev  J.  Newton  Brown. 
Illustrated  hy  wotxl-cuU,  maps,  and  engravings  on  copper  and  steel.  In  one  volume,  rorml  9n. 
Price.  $4  00. 

6 


LIPPINCOTT,  QRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

Lippincott's  Standard  Editions  of 

THE  BOOK  OF  COMMON  PRAYER. 

IN   SIX  DIFFERENT  SIZES, 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  A  NUMBER  OF  STEEL  PLATES  AND  ILLUMINATIONS, 

COMPREHENDING     THE     MOST    VARIED     AND     SPLENDID     ASSORTMENT    IN    THB 

UNITED   STATES. 


,„THE  ILLUKIINATED  OCTAVO  PRAYER-BOOK, 

""Trinted  in  seventeen  different  colours  of  ink,  and  illustrated  with  a  number  of  Steel  Plates  and 
Illuminations ;  making  one  of  the  most  splendid  books  published.  To  be  had  in  any  variety  of  the 
most  superb  binding,  ranging  in  prices. 

In  Turkey,  super  extra,  from  $5  00  to  88  00.  —  In  do.  do.,  with  clasps,  $6  00  to  $10  00.  —In  do, 
do.,  bevelled  and  panelled  edges,  $8  00  to  $15  00.  — In  velvet,  richly  ornamented,  $12  00  to  $20  00. 

8vo. 

In  neat  plain  binding,  from  $1  50  to  $2  00.  —  In  imitation  gilt  edge,  $2  00  to  $3  00.  —In  Turkey, 
•uper  extra,  $2  50  to  $4  50.  — In  do.  do.,  with  clasps,  $3  00  to  $5  00.  —  In  velvet,  richly  gilt  orna- 
ments, $5  00  to  $12  00. 

1  6mo. 

Printed  throughout  with  larce  and  elegant  type. 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  75  cents  to  $1  50 —In  Turkey  morocco,  extra,  with  plates,  11  75  to 
$3  no.  —  In  do  do.,  with  plate.s  clasi)s,  &.C.,  $2  50  to  $5  00.  —  In  velvet,  with  ricldy  gilt  ornamenti, 
$4  00  to  $0  (10. 

18mo. 

In  ueat  plain  binding,  from  25  to  75  cents.  —  In  Turkey  morocco,  with  plates,  $1  25  to  $2  00.  — lo 
velvet,  with  richly  gilt  ornaments,  $3  00  to  $8  00. 

32mo. 

A  beautiful  Pocket  Edition,  with  large  type. 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  50  cents  to  $1  00.  — In  roan,  imitation  gilt  edge,  75  cents  to  $1  50.  — In 
Turkey,  super  extra,  $1  25  to  $2  00.  —  In  do.  do.,  gilt  clasps,  $2  00  to  $3  00.  —  In  velvet,  with  richly 
filt  omaraeuts.  $3  00  to  $7  00. 


32mo.,  Pearl  type. 


In  plain  binding,  from  25  to  37  1-2  cents.  — Roan,  37  1-2  to  50  cents.  —  Imitation  Turkey,  50  cent« 
to  $1  00.  —Turkey,  super  extra,  with  gilt  edge,  $1  00  to  $1  .W.  —  Pocket-book  style,  60  to  75  cent*. 


PROPER  LESSONS 
18mo. 


A    BEAUTIFUL    EDITION,    WITH    LARGE    TYPE. 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  .V)  cents  to  81  00.  —  In  roan,  imitation  gilt  edge,  75  cents  to  $1  60.  —  In 
Turkey,  super  extra,  $1  50  to  $2  00.  —  In  do.  do.,  gilt  clasps,  $2  50  to  $3  00.  —  In  velvet,  with  richly 
gilt  ornaments,  $3  00  to  $7  00. 

THE   BIBLE   AND   PRAYER-BOOK. 

In  one  neat  and  portable  volume. 

32mo.,  in  neat  plain  binding,  from  75  cents  to  $1  00. —  In  imitation  Turkey,  $1  00  to  $1  50.~In 
Turkey,  super  extra,  tl  ,'iO  to  $2  50. 

IBiiio,  in  large  type,  plain,  $1  75  to  $2  50. —  In  imitation,  $1  00  to  $1  75.  — In  Turkey,  sap«r 
extra,  $1  75  to  $3  00.    Also,  with  clxsps,  velvet,  <kc.  <tc. 

The  Errors  of  Modern  Infidelity  Illustrated  and  Refuted. 

BY  S.  IVE.  SCHjyiUCXER,  A.  T/l. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. ;  cloth.  Just  published. 
We  cannot  but  regard  this  work,  in  whatever  light  we  view  it  in  reference  to  its  design,  a«  ono 
of  the  moKt  mtwierly  productions  of  the  age,  ami  fitted  to  uproot  one  of  the  most  fondly  cherished 
Rn(l  dangerous  of  all  ancient  or  modern  errors.  God  must  bless  such  a  work,  amted  with  his  own 
truth,  and  doing  fierce  and  successful  battle  against  black  iufidelity,  which  wmiM  bring  His  Miyesty 
•nd  Word  d()%vn  to  the  tribunal  of  human  reason,  for  condemnation  and  aniiiliilalion  — /l/^.  Spectator 


LIPPINCOTT,  QRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

t  Cltrgi]  nf  iHmtrira: 

CONSISTINO   OF 

ANECDOTES  ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  OF  MINISTERS  OF  RELI- 
GION IN  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

BY   JOSEPH  BELCHER,   D.  D., 
Editor  of  "The  Complete  Works  of  Andrew  Fuller,"  "Robert  Hall,"  fcc 

"This  very  interestinpr  »nd  instruotire  co'leotion  of  pleasin?  and  solemn  remembrances  of  many 
pio<is  men,  illustrates  ihe  ctiaracter  of  the  day  in  which  they  Lvcd,  aud  defiues  the  men  man 
clearly  than  very  elaborate  essays."  —  Ball imore  American. 

"  We  regard  the  collection  as  highly  interesting,  and  judiciously  mvule."  — Presbyterian. 

JOSEPHUS'S  (FLAVIUS)  WORKS, 

FAMILY    EDITION. 
BY  TKE  LATE  WILIilAlVE  "WHISTON,  A.  IVI. 

FROM  THE  LAST  LONDON  EDITION,  COMPLETE. 

One  volume,  beautifully  illustrated  with  Steel  Plates,  and  the  only  readable  edition 

published  in  this  country. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  every  family  in  our  cx)untry  has  a  copy  of  the  Holy  Bible ;  and  ai  the  pre- 
■umption  is  that  the  greater  portion  often  consult  its  pages,  we  take  the  hberty  of  saying  lo  all  thoM 
that  do,  that  the  perusal  of  the  writings  of  Josephus  will  be  found  very  interesting  and  instructive. 

All  those  who  wish  to  possess  a  beautiful  and  correct  copy  of  this  valuable  work,  would  do  well 
to  purchase  this  edition.  It  is  for  sale  at  all  the  principal  bookstores  in  the  United  States,  and  by 
country  merchants  generally  in  the  Southern  and  Western  States. 

Also,  the  above  work  in  two  volumes. 


BURDEirS  VILLAGE  SERMONS; 

Or,  101  Plain  and  Short  Discourses  on  the  Principal  Doctrines  of  the  Gospel 

INTENDED   FOR  THE   USE  OF   FAMllJES,  SUNDAY-SCHOOLS,  OR  COMPANIES  ASS3M- 
BLED  FOR  RELIGIOUS  INSTRLCTION  IN  COUNTRY  VILLAGES. 

BY   GEORGE  BURDER. 
To  which  is  added  to  each  Scnntm,  a  Short  Prayer,  with  .some  General  Prayers  for 
S«:h(Hils,  <SlC.,  at  the  end  uf  the  work. 
COMPLETE    IN     ONE     VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 
These  semions,  which  are  ch.'iraclcnzed  by  a  beautiful  simplicity,  the  entire  ahMDoe  of  ( 
vvrsy,  and  a  true  evangelical  kpinl,  have  gonii  lhr(iU!,'h  nianyniid  laree  e<litions.  and  been  I 
into  several  of  the  conlinenluJ  luuxuaires.    "  They  li.ive  also  twen  tlie  hniumrMl  meaaa  aol  uuljr  of 
converting  many  individuals,  but  also  of  introducing  the  G(«|>el  uitu  districts,  and  eraa  lalopwiah 
ctiurchus,  wl.iire  before  it  was  compumtively  uiikiiown  " 
"This  work  fully  deserves  the  iinniortiility  it  has  attained." 

I'liis  IS  a  fine  library  edition  of  this  iiiVHluubln  work ;  and  when  we  say  that  it  should  t>e  foond  ia 
the  posscRsiuit  of  cvory  fiiimly.  we  oidy  rcitetulo  the  scnliinoiils  aud  tiuu^ure  wiKhes  of  alt  who  take 
a  deep  interest  in  tho  eternal  weUare  of  uiuukind. 


FAMILY   PIlAYEllS   AND  HYMNS, 

ADAPTED  TO  FAMILY  WORSHIP, 

TABLES  FOR  THE  REGULAR  READING  OF  THE  SCRIPTURES. 

Hy  Roy.  S.  C.  Wi.NcnESTER,  A.  M., 

Late  Pastor  of  the  Sixth  Presbyterian  Churvh,  Philiulelphia ;   and  the  Preehyleriao  diorcb 
NatchoT..  Miss. 

One  volume,    1  2  in  o . 
8 


LIPPINCbTT,  QUAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

SPLENDID  LIBRARY  EDITIONS. 


ILLUSTRATED  STANDARD  POETS. 

ELEGANTLY   PRINTED,  ON   FINE   PAPER,  AND   UNIFORM  IN   SIZE  AND 

STVLE. 


Tlie  following  Editions  of  Standard  British  Poets  are  illustrated  with  numerous  Steel 
Engravings,  and  may  be  had  in  all  varieties  of  binding, 

BYRON'S  WORKS. 

COMPLETE   IN   ONE   VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 

INCLUDING  ALL  HIS  SUPPRESSED  AND  ATTRIBUTED  POEMS ;  WITH  SIX  BEAUTIFUL 
ENGRAVINGS. 
This  edition  has  been  carefully  compared  with  the  recent  London  edition  of  Mr.  Murray,  and 
made  complete  by  the  additiim  of  more  than  fifty  pages  of  poems  heretofore  unpublished  in  Eng- 
land. Among  these  there  are  a  number  that  have  never  appeared  in  any  American  edition ;  and 
the  publishers  believe  they  are  warranted  in  saying  that  this  is  t/ie  most  complete  edition  of  Lord 
Byron's  Poetical  Works  ever  published  in  the  United  States. 


I^oetiml  l^nvb  nf  Mrs.  Itmans. 

Complete  in  one  volume,  octavo ;  with  seven  beautiful  Engravings. 

This  is  a  new  and  complete  edition,  with  a  splendid  engraved  likeness  of  Sirs.  Hemans,  on  steel, 
and  contains  all  the  Poems  in  the  last  London  and  American  editions.  With  a  Critical  Preface  bjr 
Mr.  Thatcher,  of  Boston. 

"As  no  work  in  the  English  language  can  be  commended  with  more  confidence,  it  will  argue  bad 
taste  m  a  female  in  this  country  to  be  without  a  complete  edition  of  the  writings  of  one  who  waa 
an  honour  to  her  sex  and  to  humanity,  and  whose  productions,  from  first  to  last,  contain  no  syllable 
calculated  to  call  a  blush  to  the  check  of  modesty  and  virtue.  There  is,  moreover,  in  Mrs.  Hemans's 
poetry,  a  moral  purity  and  a  religious  feeling  which  commend  it,  in  an  especial  manner,  to  the  dis- 
criminating reader.  No  parent  or  guardian  will  be  under  the  necessityj^of  imposuig  restrictiong 
with  regard  to  the  free  perusal  of  every  production  emanating  from  this  gitled  woman.  There 
breathes  throughout  the  whole  a  most  eminent  exemption  from  impropriety  of  thought  or  diction; 
and  there  is  at  times  a  pensiveness  of  tone,  a  winning  sadness  in  her  more  serious  compositions, 
which  tells  of  a  soul  which  has  been  lifted  from  the  contemplation  of  terrestrial  things,  to  divine 
aommunings  with  beings  of  a  purer  world." 


MILTON,  YOUNG,  GRAY,  BEATTIE,  AND  COLLINS'S 
POETICAL  WORKS. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,  OCTAVO. 
WITH   SIX   BEAUTIFUL   ENGRAVINGS. 


COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,  OCTAVO. 

deluding  two  hundred  and  fifty  ftetters,  and  sundry  Poems  of  Cowper,  never  before  pubUshed  ia 

tliis  country ;  and  of  Thomson  a  new  and  interesting  Memoir,  and  upwards  of  twenty 

new  Poems,  for  the  first  time  printed  from  his  own  Manuscripts,  taken  from 

a  late  Edition  of  the  Aldine  Poets,  now  publishing  in  London. 

WITH  SEVEN  BEAUTIFUL  ENGRAVINGS. 
The  distinguished  Profes.sor  Silliman,  speaking  of  this  edition,  ol)serves:  "I  am  as  much  gratified 
by  the  elegance  and  fine  taste  of  your  edilirm,  as  by  the  noble  tribute  of  genius  and  moral  «icol- 
lence  which  these  delightful  authors  have  left  for  all  future  generations ;  and  Cowper,  esp«^iallJr, 
is  not  less  conspicuous  as  a  true  Christian,  moralist  and  teacher,  than  as  a  poet  of  great  power  and 
exquisite  taste." 

9 


LIPPINCOTT,  ORAMBO  &  CO.'S  PCBLICATIONS. 


THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  ROGERS,  CAMPBELL,  MONTGOMERY, 
LAMB,  AND  KIRKE  V/HITE. 

COMPLETIS    IN    ONE    VOLUME,    OOTAVO. 
WITH    SIX    BEAUTIFUL    ENGRAVING-S. 

The  beauty,  correctness,  and  convenience  of  this  favourite  edition  of  these  standard  authora  ara 
eo  well  known,  that  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  a  word  in  iu  favour.  It  u  only  necessary  to  aay , 
that  the  publishers  have  now  issued  an  illustrated  edition,  which  greatly  enhances  its  former  valas. 
The  engrravings  are  excellent  and  well  selected.    It  is  the  best  library  edition  extant. 


CMBBE,  IIEBER,  AND  POLLOK'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

COMrLETE    IN    OXE    VOLUME,  OCTAVO. 
WITH   SIX   BEAUTIFUL   ENGRAVINGS. 

A  writer  in  the  Boston  Traveller  holds  the  following  language  with  reference  to  these  valuable 
editions  :— 

•'  Mr.  Editor :  —  I  wish,  without  any  idea  of  pufling,  to  say  a  word  or  two  upon  the  '  Library  of 
English  Poels'  that  is  now  published  at  Philadelphia,  by  Lippincott,  Grambo  <k  Co.  It  is  certainly, 
takinsr  into  coiisideralion  the  elegant  manner  in  which  it  is  printed,  and  the  reasonable  price  at 
which  it  is  afforded  to  purclia.'!ers»  the  best  edition  of  the  nio<Iem  British  Poets  that  has  ever  been 
published  in  this  country.  Each  volume  is  an  octavo  of  about  6(J0  p^iges,  double  columns,  steivo- 
typed.  and  accoinpuiued  witii  fine  engravings  and  biogruphiciil  sketches ;  and  most  of  them  ara 
reprinted  from  Galignani's  French  edition.  As  to  its  value,  we  n««d  only  mention  that  it  contami 
the  entire  works  of  Montgomnry,  Gray,  Beatlie,  Pollins,  Byron,  Cowper,  Thomson.  Miltim,  Yoonn, 
Rogers,  Camplxill,  Lamb,  Herni'ns,  Ileber,  Kirke  White,  (;nibl)€,  the  Miscellaneous  Works  of  Gold- 
Emith,  and  other  masiers  of  the  lyre.  The  publishers  «re  doing  a  great  service  by  their  publicaHoa, 
and  their  volumes  are  almo.st  in  as  great  demand  as  the  fashionable  novels  of  the  day ;  and  they 
de-serve  to  be  so :  for  thoy  are  certainly  printed  in  a  style  superior  to  that  in  which  we  have  before 
had  the  works  of  the  Knglisli  Poets." 

No  library  can  be  considttred  c^omplete  without  a  copy  of  the  above  beautiful  and  cheap  edition* 
of  the  English  PoeU;  and  persons  orderuig  all  or  any  of  them,  will  please  say  Lif  pincoU,  Granbo 
i(  Ck>.'8  illustrated  editions. 


A    COMPLETE 


Diriioiuiri]  of  portirnl  (tlnotafion 


OOMPRISING   TIIK   MOST  n.Xi'F.Lf.KNT  ANM)  AI'PROPRIATK  rAF^AGES  IN 

THE  OLD   r.RITISII    I'OiriV;  WITH  riloK'K  AVI)  t'CJPlors  8KLEC- 

TION8   FRO.M  TlIF-  lU'.ST  MOPKRN  IIRITISII   AVD 

AMERICAN   l't)i:TS. 

EDITED  BY  SARAH  JOSEPHA  HALE. 

As  nightingales  do  u|Km  glow-worms  feed. 

So  fMiets  live  ui)on  the  living  light 

Of  Nature  and  of  Beauty. 

BniUy't  F^stut. 

Beautifully  illuRtroted  with  Ensravinga.    In  one  auperroyal  ortnvo  volnme,  in  vanoua 

bindingt. 

The  publishers  exti-nct,  from  the  many  highly  uuniplinienlaor  notices  of  the  above  Taloabl*  aad 
beautiful  work,  the  following  : 

"  VV«  have  at  lust  a  volume  of  Pi>eftc4il  Quotations  worthy  of  the  name.  It  otntams  nearly  six 
hundred  <Ma!ivo  piigfs,  cuiffiilly  nml  taNtof'illy  M'N'ctfMl  fi-oiii  nil  (he  home  and  forricn  author*  of 
oeUtbnty.  It  is  m valuable  to  a  writer,  while  to  the  ordinnry  n^mler  it  preaeiils  every  subject  at  a 
glance.'  —  Godev's  Ludn'i  limtk. 

•'The  plan  or  iilenof  Mrs  Hi.le's  work  is  feliritous.     Ft  is  one  fnt  v •     hrr  ortleriy 

Unbilsof  mind,  and  hisr  long  occniiiiiion  with  lileialnm.  h.is  given  .  kikI  Muk 

loiiglily  has  she  accouipliHhed  lit^r  Usk  in  the  work  Ixsfore  us." — ^ 

"  It  IS  n  choice  collection  of  poetical  extract.'*  from  everv  KiiKli>,,  ....i, .,...,  ....Uior  wortM 

peru.i!:ig,  from  tli«i  jlays  of  Chaucer  to  the  present  time  "    •WiishttwUm  Omon. 

"There  is  luitliiug  nc^pitive  about  this  work  ;  it  is  ttositivtly  gmwl."—  Kvmtng  BuUtttn. 

10 


LIPPINCOTT,  QEAMBO  &  tO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  DIAMOND  EDITION  OF  BYRON. 
THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  LORD  BYRON, 

TVITH   A   SKETCH    OF    HIS   LIFE. 

COMPLETK  IN  ONE  NEAT  DUODECIMO  VOLUME,  WITH  STEEL  PLATES. 

The  type  of  this  edition  is  so  perfect,  and  it  is  printed  with  so  much  care,  on  fine  white  paper, 
that  it  can  be  read  with  as  much  ease  as  most  of  the  larger  editions.  This  work  is  to  be  had  id 
plain  and  superb  binding,  making  a  beautiful  volume  for  a  gift. 

"  The  Poetical  Works  of  Lord  Byron,  complete  in  one  volume  :  published  by  L.,  G.  &  Co.,  Phila' 
delphia.  We  hazard  nothing  in  saying  that,  lake  it  altogether,  this  is  the  most  elegant  work  ever 
issued  from  the  America!i  press. 

'"In  a  sinjrle  volume,  not  larger  than  an  ordinary  duodecimo,  the  publishers  have  embraced  tha 
whole  of  Lord  Byron's  Poems,  usually  printed  in  ten  or  twelve  volumes;  and,  what  is  more  remark- 
able, have  done  it  with  a  type  so  clear  and  distin(;t,  that,  nfrtwithstanding  its  necessarily  small  .size, 
it  may  be  read  with  the  utmost  facility,  even  bv'  failing  eyes.  The  book  is  stereotyped  ;  and  never 
have  we  seen  a  finer  specimen  of  that  art.  Everything  about  it  is  perfect  —  the  paper,  the  print- 
ing, the  binding,  all  correspond  with  each  other;  and  it  is  embellished  with  two  fine  engravings, 
well  worthy  the  companionship  in  which  they  are  placed. 

"  'This  will  make  a  beautiful  Chnstmas  present.' 

"  We  e.xtract  the  above  from  Godey's  Lady's  Book.  The  notice  itself,  we  are  given  to  understand, 
is  written  by  Mrs.  Hale. 

"  We  have  to  add  our  commendation  in  favour  of  this  beautiful  volume,  a  copy  of  which  has 
been  sent  us  by  tiie  publishers.  The  admirers  of  the  noble  bard  will  feel  obliged  to  the  enterprise 
winch  has  prompted  the  publishers  to  dare  a  competition  with  the  numerous  editions  of  his  works 
already  in  circulation ;  and  we  shall  be  surprised  if  this  convenient  travelhng  edition  does  not  in  a 
great  degree  supersede  the  use  of  the  large  octavo  works,  which  have  little  advantage  in  .size  ana 
openness  of  type,  and  are  much  inferior  in  the  qualities  of  portability  and  lightness."  —  IntelMgencer. 


THE  DIAMOND   EDITION  OF  MOORE. 

(corresponding    with    BYRON.) 

THE  POETICAL  WORKS^OF  THOMAS  MOORE, 

COLLECTED  BY  HIMSELF. 

COMPLETE    IN   ONE  VOLUME. 

Tnis  work  is  published  uniform  with  Byron,  from  the  last  London  edition,  and  is  the  most  com- 
plete printed  in  the  country. 

THE  DIAMOND   EDITION  OF  SHAKSPEARE, 

(COMPLKTE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,) 

XN'CIiXrDIITO  A  SKETCH  QV  HIS  LIFB. 

UNlFOR^[  WITH  BYHO.N  AND  MOORE. 

THE    ABOVE    WORKS    C.'^N    BE    HAD    IN    SEVERAL    VARIETIES    OF    BINDINQ. 

GOLDSMITH'S  ANIMATED  NATURE. 

IN    TWO    VOLUMES,   OCTAVO. 

BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUSTRATED  WITH  385  PLATES. 

CONTAINING  A  HISTORY  OF  THE  EARTH,  ANIMALS,  BIRDS,  AND   FISHES;   FORMING 

THE  MOST  COMPLETE  NATURAL  HISTORY  EVER  PUBLISHED. 

Tliis  is  a  work  that  should  be  in  the  library  of  every  family,  having  been  wntten  by  one  of  th« 

most  talented  authors  in  the  English  language. 

"Goldsmith  can  never  be  made  obsolete  while  delicate  genius,  exquisite  feeling, fine  invention^ 
the  most  harmonious  metre,  and  the  liappiest  diction,  are  at  all  valued." 


BIGLAND'S  NATURAL  HISTORY 

Of  Animals,  Birds,  Fishes,  Reptilrts,  and  Insects.    Illustrated  with  numerous  and  beautiful  Eagnv 

mgs.    By  JOHN  BIGLAND,  author  of  a  "  View  of  the  World,"  •'  I^twrs  on 

IJoiversal  History,"  <kc.    Complete  in  1  vol..  12mo. 

11 


LIPPINCOTT,  OKAMBO  &  OO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  POWER  AND  PROGRESS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


THE  UNITED  STATES;  Its  Power  and  Progress. 

BY  GUILLAUXVIE   TELL  POUSSIN, 

LATE  MINISTER  OF  TUE  REPUBLIC  OF  FRANCE  TO  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

FIRST  AMERICAN,  FROM  THE  THIRD  PARIS  EDITION. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  BY  EDMOND  L.  DU  BARRY,  M.  D., 

SURGEON  U.  S.   NAVY. 

In  one  large  octavo  volume. 

SCHOOLCRAFT'S  GREAT  NATIONAL  WORK  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRIBES  OF 
THE  UNITED  STATES. 

WITH   BEAUTIFUL   AND   ACCURATE    COLOURED    ILLUSTEATI0N8. 


HISTORICAL  AND  STATISTICAL  INFORMATION 

RESPECTINO   TUB 

HISTORY,  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS 

OF    TUB 

f  iiMan  Crihts  d\\)t  itnittb  $\aUs. 

COLLECTED  AND  PREPARED  UNDER  THE  DIRECTION  OF  THE  BUREAU  OF  INDIAN 
AFFAIRS,  PER  ACT  OF  MARCH  3,  1&47, 

BT  KEXTR-B-  B.  SCHOOZ.GR.aFT,  I.Z..D. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  S.  EASTMAN,  Capt.  U.  S.  A. 
PUBLISIIED  BY  AUTHORITY  OF  CONGEE88. 

THE  AMERICAN  GARDENER'S  CALENDAR, 

ADAPTED  TO  THE  CUM  ATE  AND  SEASONS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

Containing  a  complete  account  of  all  the  work  necessary  to  be  done  in  the  Kitchen  Gartlen,  Fniit 
Garden,  Orchard,  Vineyard,  Nursery,  Pleasure-Gruund,  Flower  Garden,  Green-house,  Hirt- 
and  Forcing  Frames,  for  every  mouth  in  the  year;  with  ample  Practical  DiraotMiui  for 
the  same. 

Also,  general  as  well  as  minute  instructions  for  layinfr  out  or  erertuif  Mwh  wd  CTwy  of  tiw  i 
departments,  ac^ordmg  to  modern  taste  and  the  m(«t  approved  plans;  the  Ornamental  Piaattiw  of 
Pleasure  Grounds,  in  the  ancient  and  modern  style;  the  cultivation  of  Ilium  Quicka,  and  oUmt 
plants  suitable  for  Live  Hedges,  with  the  best  mt'tliods  of  making  thorn.  Ac.  To  which  aro  anaon 
catalogues  of  Kitchen  Garden  I'lanU  and  Hcrba;  Aromutic.  Pot.  and  Swoet  Herba;  ModiciMi 
PlanU,  and  the  most  important  Grui)es,  &.c.,  used  in  rural  economy;  with  tha  auil  boot  Mlaptod  !• 
their  cultivation.    Together  with  a  copious  Index  to  the  b<Hly  of  the  work. 

BY  BERNARD   M'MAHON. 
Tenth  Edition,  greatly  improved.    In  one  volume,  octava 

THE  USEFUL  AND  THE   BEAUTIFUL; 

OK,  DOMESTIC  AND  MORAL  DUTIES   NECESSARY  TO  SOCIAL  HAPPINESS. 

BEAUTIFULLY   ILLUSTRATED. 

IGmo.  square  cloth.     Prico  50  and  76  cents. 
12 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  FARIVIER'S  AND  PLANTER'S  ENCYCLOP/EDIA. 


€liB  /urmrr's  ml  :^^laiitBr'jg  (gnnjrln|iirMa  nf  Eural  Maia 

BY  CUTHBERT  W.  JOHNSON. 
ADAPTED  TO  THE  UNITED  STATES  BY  GOUVERNEUR  EMERSON. 

Illustrated  by  seventeen  beautiful  Eugrravings  of  Cattle,  Horses,  She«p,  the  varieties  of  Wheat, 
Barley,  Oats,  Grasses,  the  Weeds  of  Agriculture,  <kc. ;  besides  numerous  Engrav- 
ings on  wood  of  the  most  important  implements  of  Agriculture,  &c. 
This  standard  work  contains  the  latest  and  best  information  upon  all  subjects  connected  with 
farming,  and  appertaining  to  the  country  ;  treating  of  the  great  crops  of  grain,  hay,  cotton,  hemp, 
tobacco,  rice,  sugar,  ckc.  <5cc. ;  of  horses  and  mules ;  of  cattle,  with  minute  particulars  relating  to 
cheese  and  butter-making;  of  fowls,  including  a  description  of  capon-making,  with  drawings  of  the 
instruments  employed ;  of  bees,  and  the  Russian  and  other  systems  of  managing  bees  and  con- 
itructing  hives.    Long  articles  on  the  uses  and  preparation  of  bones,  lime,  guano,  and  all  sorts  of 
animal,  mineral,  and  vegetable  substances  employed  as  manures.  Descriptions  of  the  most  approved 
ploughs,  harrows,  threshers,  and  every  other  agricultural  machine  and  implement;  of  fruit  and 
shade  trees,  forest  trees,  and  shrubs ;  of  weeds,  and  all  kinds  of  flies,  and  destructive  worms  and 
insects,  and  the  best  means  of  getting  rid  of  them;  together  with  a  thousand  other  matters  relating 
to  rural  life,  about  which  information  is  so  constantly  desired  by  all  residents  of  the  country. 
IN    ONE    LARGE    OCTAVO   VOLUME. 

MASON'S  FARRIER-FARMERS'  EDITION. 

Price,  62  cents. 


THE  PRACTICAL  FARRIER,  FOR  FARMERS; 

COMPRISINO   A   GENERAL   DESCRIPTION  OP  THE   NOBLE  AND   USEFUL   ANIIIAL, 

THE    HORSE; 

WITH  MODES  OF  >UNAGEMENT  IN  ALL  CASES,  AND  TREATMENT  IN  DISEASE. 
TO    WHICH    IS   ADDED, 

A  PRIZE  ESSAY  ON  MULES ;  AND  AN  APPENDIX, 

Containing  Recipes  for  Diseases  of  Horses,  Oxen,  Cows,  Calves,  Sheep,  Dogs,  Swine,  <5to.  Ac. 

BV  RXCHJLRD  miASON,  3VE.  D., 

Formerly  of  Surry  County,  Virginia. 

In  one  volume,  12mo.;    bound  in  cloth,  gilt. 


MASON'S  FARRIER  AND  STUD-BOOK-NEW  EDITION. 

THE  GENTLEMAN'S  NEW  POCKET  FARRIER: 

COUPRISINa  A  GENERAL  DESCRIPTION  OP  THE  NOBLE  AND  USEFUL  ANIMAL, 

THE    HORSE; 

WITH  MODES  OF  MANAGEMENT  IN  ALL  CASES,  AND  TREATMENT  IN  DISEASK. 

BV  BZCHARD  TOLASONy  BI.  D., 

Formerly  of  Surry  County,  Virginia. 

Yo  which  is  added,  A  PRIZE  ESSAY  ON  MULES;  and  AN  APPENDIX,  containing  Recipes  tot 

I  Diseases  of  Horses,  Oxen,  Cows,  Calves,  Sheep,  Dogs,  Swine,  <kc.  &c. ;  with  Annals 

of  the  Turf,  American  Stud-Book,  Rules  for  Training,  Racing,  <5m5 

WITH   A   SUPPLEMENT, 

Comprising  an  Essay  on  Domestic  Animals,  especially  the  Horse ;  with  Remarks  on  Treatment  tutm 

Breeding;  together  with  Trotting  and  Racing  Tables,  shov^mg  the  best  time  on  record  at  on* 

two,  three  and  four  mile  heats ;  Pedigrees  of  Winning  Horses,  since  1839,  and  of  the  moat 

celebrated  Stallions  and  Mares ;  with  useful  Calving  and  Lambing  Tables.    By 

J.  S.  SKINNER,  Editor  now  of  the  Farmer's  Library,  New  York,  iio.  4o. 

B  13 


LIPPINCOTT,  QEAMBO  &  CO.'S  P0BLICATION8. 

HINDS'S  FARRIERY  AND  STUD-BOOK-NEW  EDITION. 


FARRIERY, 

TAUGHT  ON  A  NEW  AND  EASY  PLAN: 

BEING 

a  Cnufe  nil  tl]t  llmm  nnJr  Slrritonts  nf  ttit  3Bnm; 

'ith  In«truction8  to  lUe  SIkkmhj?  Smith,  Farrior,  and  Groom  ;  preceded  by  a  Popular  Description  ol 
Uie  Ammal  Functions  m  Health,  and  how  these  are  to  be  restored  when  diaonlersd. 

BY  JOHN    HINDS,  VETERINARY   SURGEON. 

With  considerable  Adthtions  and  Improvements,  particularly  adapted  to  thia  coontry. 

BY   THOMAS   M.    SMITH, 

Veterinary  ijurgeon,  and  Member  of  the  London  Veterinary  Medical  Society. 

WITH  A  SUPPLEMENT,  BY  J.  S.  SKINNER. 

The  publishers  have  received  numerous  flnlteringr  notices  of  the  great  practical  value  of  theaa 
works.  The  distinguished  editor  of  the  Amencan  Farmer,  speaking  of  them,  observes: — "We 
cannot  too  highly  recommend  these  books,  and  therefore  advise  every  owner  of  a  horse  to  obUiB 
them." 

"  There  are  receipts  in  those  ^ooks  that  show  how  Founder  may  be  cared,  and  the  trareller  pur- 
sue his  journey  the  next  day,  by  pivinp  a  tablespoonful  o/alitm.  This  was  got  from  Dr  P.  Thomtni, 
of  Montpelier,  Ruiipalianuock  county,  Virginia,  as  founded  ou  his  6wu  obserralion  in  several  caaes." 

"The  rxinstant  demand  for  Mason's  and  Hinds's  Farrier  has  induced  the  put)lishers,  Messrs.  Lip- 
pincott,  Granibo  6i  Co. .to  put  forth  new  e<lilioiis,  with  a  '  Supplement'  of  I0(i  |i»i?eti.  by  J.  S.  Skinnitr, 
Esn.  We  should  have  sought  to  render  an  accejilable  service  to  our  jtirricult'ii-al  renders,  by  giving 
a  chapter  (ioin  the  Sni>pleinent,  'On  the  Relations  between  Man  and  the  Domestic  Animals,  espe- 
cially the  Horse,  and  ihe  Obligations  thny  impose  ;'  or  the  one  on  '1  he  Form  of  Aounals;'  but  that 
either  one  of  them  would  overrun  the  space  here  allotted  to  such  subject*." 

"  Lists  of  Medicines,  and  other  articles  which  ought  to  be  at  hand  alwut  every  trainmf  and  liTety 
•table,  and  every  Farmer's  and  Breeder's  establishment,  will  be  found  in  these  valuable  worka." 


TO  CARPENTERS  AND  MECHANICS 

Just  Published. 


A  NEW  AND  IMPROVED  EDITION  OF 

THE  CAllPENTEirS  NEW  GUIDE, 

BBINQ  A  COMPLETB  BOOK  OT  LINKS  rOR 

ABPHXOTTRir  AXTD  JOIVrBBlT; 

Tncting  fully  on  Practical  Geometry,  Saffil's  Unck  and  Plaster  Groins,  Niches  uf  every  dcwrtpttak. 

Sky-lights,  Lines  for  Roofs  ajid  Domes :  with  a  great  vanety  of  Designs  for  RooA, 

Trussed  Gmlers,  Floors,  Domes,  Dndges,  Aic,  Angle  Ban  for  Shop 

Fronts,  <i(C.,  and  Kakmg  Moulduig*. 

ALSO, 

Additional  Plans  for  various  Stair-Cases,  with  the  Lines  for  producing  the  Face  and  PnlUnfr  MoiM» 
never  before  publishetl,  and  greatly  superior  to  those  given  in  a  former  editiou  of  this  work. 

BY   WILLIAM  JOHNSON.   ARCHITECT. 

or    flULADKI.rHIA.. 

Th*  whole  founded  on  true  Ocometncnl  Pnnciples ;  the  Theory  and  Practice  well  explain**!  and 
fully  exnmplitled,  on  eighty-three  copper  plates,  including  ioiM  ObMnratioDt  and  CakoJatioos  oa 
iba  Strength  of  limber. 

BY    PETER     NICHOLSON, 
of  "  The  Carpenter  and  Jouier's  Assistant,"  "  The  Student's  Instniotor  lo  »■  *»•• 
Orders,"  6iC 

Thirteenth  Edition.    One  Toiume,  4to.,  well  bound. 


LIPPINCOTT,  QRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

A  DICTIONARY  OF  SELECT  AND  POPULAR  QUOTATIONS, 

WHICH  ARE  IN  DAILY  USE. 

TAKEN  FROM  THE  LATIN,  FRENCH,  GREEK,  SPANISH  AND  ITALIAN  LANGUAGES. 

Together  with  a  copious  Collection  of  Law  Maxims  and  Law  Terms,  translated  into 

English,  with  Illustrations,  Historical  and  Idiomatic. 

NEW  AMERICAN  EDITION,  CORRECTED.  WITH  ADDITIONS. 
One  volume,    12mo. 

This  volume  comprises  a  copious  collection  of  le^l  and  other  terms  which  are  in  common  use, 
Vith  English  translations  and  historical  illustrations;  and  we  should  judge  its  author  had  surely 
een  to  a  great  "  Feast  of  Languages,"  and  stole  all  the  scraps.  A  work  of  this  character  should 
have  an  extensive  sale,  as  it  entirely  obviates  a  serious  difficulty  in  which  most  readers  are  involved 
by  the  frequent  occurrence  of  Latin,  Greek,  and  French  passages,  which  we  suppose  are  introduced 
by  authors  for  a  mere  show  of  leaniing  — a  difficulty  very  perplexing  to  readers  in  generaL  This 
"  Dictionary  of  Quotations,"  concerning  which  too  much  cannot  be  said  in  its  favour,  effectually 
removes  the  difficulty,  and  gives  the  reader  an  advantage  over  the  author ;  for  we  believe  a  majority 
are  themselves  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  the  terms  they  employ.  Very  few  truly  learned  authors 
will  insult  their  readers  by  introducing  Latin  or  French  quotations  in  their  writings,  when  "plain 
English"  will  do  as  well ;  but  we  will  not  enlarge  on  this  point. 

If  the  book  is  useful  to  those  unacquainted  with  other  languages,  it  is  no  less  valuable  to  the 
classically  educated  as  a  book  of  reference,  and  answers  all  the  purposes  of  a  Lexicon  —  indeed,  on 
many  accounts,  it  is  better.  It  saves  the  trouble  of  tumbhng  over  the  larger  volumes,  to  which 
every  one,  and  especially  those  engaged  in  the  legal  profession,  are  verv  often  subjected.  It  should 
have  a  place  in  every  Ubrary  in  the  country. 


RUSCHENBERGER'S  NATURAL  HISTORV, 

COMPLETE,     WITH    NEW    GLOSSAKY. 


^[lE  (BUmtnls'd  Natural  liistori], 

EMBRACING   ZOOLOGY,  BOTANY  AND  GEOLOGY: 

-  FOR  53CHOOLS,  COLLEGES  AND  FAMILIES. 
BTT  "W.  S.  "W.  RUSOHENBZIHG.'EIR,  lO:.  D. 

IN    TWO   VOLUMES. 

WITH  NEARLY  ONE  THOUSAND  ILLUSTRATIONS,  AND   A   COPIOUS   GLOSSARY. 

VoL  L  contains  Vertebrate  Animals.    Vol.  II.  contains  IntcrvertJibrate  Animala,  Botany,  and  GtoUm, 

A  Beautiful  and  Valuable  Presentation  Book. 


THE    POET'S    OFFERING. 

EDITED  BY   MRS.   HALE. 
With  a  Portrait  of  the  Editress,  a  Splendid  Illuminated  Title-Page.  and  Twelve  Beautiful  Engrar- 
ings  by  Sartain.    Bound  in  rich  Turkey  Morocco,  and  Extra  Cloth,  Gilt  Edge. 
To  those  who  wish  to  make  a  present  that  will  never  lose  its  value,  this  will  be  found  the  moat 
AiMirable  Gift-Book  ever  published. 

"We  commend  it  to  all  who  desire  to  present  a  friend  with  a  volume  not  only  very  beautiful  but 
of  solid  nitrmsic  value."  — VV'os/iznj/fort  f/nion. 

"A  perfect  treasury  of  the  thoughts  and  fancies  of  the  best  English  and  American  Poets.  The 
paper  and  pnnting  are  beautiful,  and  the  binding  rich,  eJegant,  and  substantial;  the  most  sensible 
and  attractive  of  all  the  elegsmt  gift-books  we  have  sae'.x."  —  Emning  Bulletin 

••  The  publishers  de.serve  the  thanks  of  the  public  for  so  happy  a  thought,  so  well  executed.  The 
wigravings  are  by  the  best  artists,  and  the  other  portions  of  the  work  correspond  in  elegance."  — 

"  There  is  no  book  of  selections  so  diversified  and  appropriate  within  our  knowledge."— Pwinjwiw^ 
It  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  as  well  as  elegant  books  ever  published  in  this  country  "  —  Godn't 
Lady't  Book.  i-  r 

"  Iv  IS  the  most  beautifu.  and  the  most  u.seftil  offering  ever  bestowed  on  th»  public.  No  individual 
of  hterary  taste  will  venture  to  \>e  without  it."—  The  City  Item 

15 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  YOUNG  DOMINICAN; 
OR,  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  INQUISITION, 

AND  OTHER  SECRET  SOCIETIES  OF  SPAIN. 
BY  M.  V.  DE  FEREAL. 

WITH  HISTORICAL  NOTES,  BY  M.  MANUEL  DE  CUENDIAS 

TEANSLATED   FROM    THE    FRENCH. 
ILLUSTRATED  WITH  TWENTY  SPLENDID  ENGRAVINGS  BY  FRENCH  ARTISTS 

One  volume,  octavo. 

SAY'S  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


A  TREATISE  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY; 
Or,  The  Production,  Distribution  and  Consumption  of  WealtL 

B7  J^AN  BjQJPTISTI:   SA7. 

FIFTH   AMERICAN   EDITION,   WITH   ADDITIONAL   NOTES, 
BY  C.   C.    BIDDLE,   Esq. 

In  one  volume,  octavo. 

It  would  be  beneficial  to  our  country  if  all  those  who  are  aspiring  to  office,  were  required  by  theft 
constituenU  to  be  familiar  with  the  pages  of  Say. 

The  distingruished  biographer  of  the  autlwr,  in  noticing  this  work,  observes :  "  Happily  for  adenoe 
he  commenced  that  study  which  forms  the  basis  of  his  admirable  Treatise  on  Pobttcal  Eamomtf ;  e 
work  which  not  only  improved  under  his  hand  with  every  successive  edition,  but  has  been  translated 
into  most  of  the  European  languages." 

The  Editor  of  the  North  American  Review,  speaking  of  Say,  observes,  that  "  he  Is  the  most 
popular,  and  perhaps  the  most  able  writer  on  Political  Ecol^omy,  since  the  time  of  Smith." 

LAURENCE  STERNE'S  WORKS, 

WITH  A  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR: 

WRITTEN   BY   HIMSELF. 

WITH  SEVEN  BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATIONS,  ENGRAVED  BY  GILBERT  AND  GIHOIi, 
FROM  DESIGNS  BY  DARLEY. 

One  volume,   octavo;   cloth,   gilt. 

To  commend  or  to  criticise  Sterne's  Works,  in  this  age  of  the  world,  would  be  all  "  wasteftal  tad 
extravagant  excess."  Uncle  Toby  —  Corporul  Trim  — the  Widow  — Le  Fevre  — Poor  Maria— the 
Captive  — even  the  Dead  Ass,- this  is  all  we  have  to  say  of  Sterne;  and  in  the  meaiory  of  Umm 
characters,  histories,  and  sketches,  a  thousand  follies  and  worse  than  follies  are  forfottan.  TIm 
volume  ia  a  very  handsome  one. 

THE  MEXICAN  WAR  AND  ITS  HEROES, 

A  COMPLETE  HISTORY  OF  THElffiXICAN  WAR, 

■MBRACINO  ALL  THE  OPERATIONS   UNDER  GENERALS   TAYLOR  AND  SCOTT. 

WITH  A  BIOQEAPHY  OF  THE  OFFICERS. 

ALSO, 

AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  CONQUEST  OF  CALIFORNIA  AND  NEW  MEXICO, 

I'nder  Gen.  Konmy,  Cols.  Doniphan  ami  rrcmout.    Togetlier  with  Numpnms  Anecdotes  of  the 

War,  and  Personal  Adventures  of  the  Officers.    lUuBlratMl  with  Acourato 

PortraiU.  aiul  other  Beautiful  Engravingi. 

Ib  ouq  volume,  12mo. 

16 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


NEW  AND  COMPLETE  COOK-BOOK, 


THE  PRACTICAL  COOK-BOOK,. 

CONTAINING    UPWARDS    OT  ...     i 

OXrz:  THOUSA.X7D  RXSOISIPTS, 

Consisting  of  Directions  for  Selecting,  Preparing,  and  Cooking  all  kinds  of  Meats,  Fish,  Poultry,  ami 
Game;  Soups,  Broths,  Vegetables,  and  Salads.    Also,  tor  makiner  all  kinds  of  Plain  and 
Fancy  Breads,  Pastes,  Puddings,  Cakes,  Creams,  Ices,  Jellies,  Preserves,  Marma- 
lades, ikc.  &c.  <tc.    Together  with  various  Miscellaneous  Recipes, 
and  numerous  Preparations  for  Invalids. 

BY  MRS.   BLISS. 

In  one  volume,    12mo. 


BY  J.  B.  JONES, 

AUTHOR  OP  "  WILD  WESTERN  SCENES,"  "  THE  WESTERN  MERCHANT,"  &«. 
ILLUSTRATED  WITH  TEN   ENGRAVINGS. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 


CALIFORNIA  AND  OREGON; 

OR,  SIGHTS  IN  THE  GOLD  REGION,  AND  SCENES  BY  THE  WAY. 

BY  THEODORE   T.  JOHNSON. 
WITH   NOTES,  BY   HON.  SAMUEL  R.  THURSTON, 

Delegate  to  Congress  from  that  Territory. 

^  With  numerous  Plates  and  Maps. 

AUNT  PHILLIS'S  CABIN; 

OR.    SOUTHERN    LIFE   AS    IT    IS. 

BY   MRS.   MARY    H.    EASTMAN. 
PRICE,  50  AND  75  CENTS. 

This  volume  presents  a  picture  of  Southern  Life,  taken  at  different  points  of  view  from  the  one 
occupied  by  tlie  authoress  of  "f/ncfe  Tom's  Cabin."  The  writer,  being  a  native  of  the  South,  is  fit- 
miliar  with  the  many  varied  aspects  assumed  by  domestic  servitude  in  that  sunny  region,  and  there- 
fore feels  competent  to  give  pictures  of  "  Southern  Life,  as  it  is." 

Pledged  to  no  clique  or  party,  and  fsTe  from  the  pressure  of  any  and  all  extraneous  influences, 
she  has  written  her  book  with  a  view  to  its  truthfulness;  and  the  public  at  the  North,  as  well  as 
at  the  South,  will  find  in  "Aunt  Phillis's  Cabin"  not  the  distorted  picture  of  an  interested  painter, 
but  the  faithful  transcript  of  a  Daguerreotypist. 

WHAT  IS  CHURCH  HISTORY? 

AVINDICATION  OF  TH&  IDEA  OF  HISTORICAL  DEVELOPMENTS. 

BY  PHILIP  SOHAF. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 

«•  17 


LIPPINCOTT,  CRAMBO  &  CO.*S  PUBLICATIONS. 

DODD'S  LECTURES. 


DISCOUllSES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  NUMEROUS  HIGHLY  LNTERESTING  ANECDOTES. 

BY  "WILL.IA1VI  DODD,   LL.  D., 

CHAPLAIN    IN   ORDINARY    TO    HI8   MAJKATY    OEOROK    THB   THIRD. 

FIRST  AMERICAN  EDITION,  WITH  ENGRAVINGS. 

One  volume,  ISmo. 


THE  IRIS: 

AN  ORIGINAL  SOUVENIR. 
With  Contributions  from  the  First  Writers  in  the  Coxintry. 

EDITED  BY  PROP.   JOHN   S.   HART. 

With  Splendid  niununationi  and  Steel  Engrravuigi.    Bound  in  Turkey  Morocco  and  rich  Papiar 

Mache  Binding. 

IN   ONK   VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 

Its  contents  are  entirely  origrinal.    Among  the  contributors  are  names  well  known  in  the  repabli* 

of  letters;  such  as  Mr.  Boker,  Mr.  Stoddard, Prof.  Moffat,  Edith  May, Mrs.  Sigoumey, Caroline  May, 

Mrs.  Kinney,  Mrs.  Butler,  Mrs.  Pease,  Mrs.  Swift,  Mr.  Van  Bibber,  Rev.  Charles  T.  Brooka,  Mrs. 

Dorr,  Erastus  W.  Ellsworth.  Mis.s  E.  W.  Barnes,  Mrs.  Williams,  Mary  YounR,  Dr.  Gardette,  AliM 

Carey,  Pliebe  Carey,  Augusta  Browne,  Hamilton  Browne,  Caroline  Eustis,  Marjarel  Junkin,  Maria 

J.  B.  Browne,  Miss  Starr,  Mrs.  Brotherson,  Kate  Campbell,  4c. 

dtras  frnm  tlie  iamh  Mint; 

OR,  HOLY  THOUGHTS  UPON  SACRED  SUBJECTS. 

BY  CLERGYMEN  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH. 

EDITED  BY  THOMAS  WYATT,  A.M.  * 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 

WITH   SEVEN   BEAUTIFUL  STEEL   ENQRAVINGS. 

The  contents  of  this  work  are  chiefly  by  clergymen  of  the  Episcopal  Churrh.  Amonc  the  owi- 
tributors  will  be  found  the  names  of  the  Ki^ht  Rev.  Bishop  Potter,  Bishop  Ilopkins,  Bish»p  Smith, 
Bishop  Johns,  and  Bishop  Doane;  and  the  Rev.  Prs.  H.  V.  D.  Johns,  Coleman,  and  Butler;  Rev.  O. 
T.  Bedell,  M'Ca)>e,  Ogilsby,  &.C.  The  illustrations  are  rich  and  exquisitely  wrourht  enrra vinits  npo* 
t.ie  following  subjects: — "Samuel  before  Eli."  "Peter  and  John  healing  the  Lame  Man,"  "TWe 
Resurrection  of  Christ,"  "  Joseph  sold  by  his  Brethren,"  "The  Tables  of  the  Law."  "ChriA^ 
A«[ony  in  the  Garden,"  and  "  The  Flij^ht  into  Egypt."  These  sul^jects,  with  many  oUmi*  ia  pram 
and  verse,  are  ably  treated  throughout  the  work. 


ANCIENT  CHRISTIANITY  EXEMPLIFIED. 

In  the  Private,  Doincatlr,  Socinl,  nnd  Civil  T^lfc  of  the  Primitive 

ChrUtlana,  mid  In  the  Original  Inatltiitlons,  Offices, 

Ordinancea,  and  Rites  of  the  Church* 

BY  REV.  LYMAN  COLEMAN,  D.D. 

In  one  volume  8vo.     Trico  $2  60, 

18 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

LONZ  POWEKS;  Or,  The  Regulators. 
A  ROMANCE  OF  KENTUCKY. 

FOUNDED    ON    FACT  8  . 
BY  JAIVIES  -WEIR,   ESQ. 

LV  TWO  VOLUMES. 
The  scenes,  characters,  and  incidents  in  these  Tolumes  have  been  copied  from  nature,  and  fro» 
t8al  life.  They  are  represented  as  taking  place  at  that  period  in  the  history  of  Kentucky,  when 
the  Indian,  driven,  after  many  a  hard-fought  field,  from  his  fevourite  hunting-ground,  was  succeeded 
by  a  nide  and  unlettered  population,  interspersed  with  organized  bands  of  desperadoes,  scarcely 
less  savage  than  the  red  men  they  had  displaced.  The  author  possesses  a  vigorous  and  graphi* 
pen,  and  has  produced  a  very  interesting  romance,  which  gives  us  a  striking  portrait  of  the  timei 
he  describes. 


A  PRACTICAL  TREATISE  ON  BUSINESS; 

OR,   HOW  TO   GET,   SAVE,  SPEND,   GIVE,    LEND,   AND   BEQUEATH   MONEYt 

WITH  AN  INQUIRY  INTO  THE  CHANCES  OF  SUCCESS  AND  CAUSES 

OF  FAILURE  IN  BUSINESS. 

BY     EDWIN     T.    FREEDLY. 

Also,  Prize  Essays,  Statistics,  Miscellanies,  and  numerous  private  letters  from  successful  and 

distinguished  business  men. 

12mo.,  cloth.    Price  One  Dollar. 

The  object  of  this  treatise  is  fourfold.   First,  the  elevation  of  the  business  character,  and  to  define 

clearly  the  limits  within  which  it  is  not  only  proper  but  obligatory  to  get  money.    Secondly,  to  lay 

down  the  principles  which  must  be  observed  to  insure  success,  and  what  must  be  avoided  to  escape 

failure.    Thirdly,  to  give  the  mode  of  management  in  certain  prominent  pursuits  adopted  by  the 

most  successful,  from  which  men  in  all  kinds  of  business  may  derive  profitable  hints.    Fourthly,  to 

afford  a  work  of  solid  interest  to  those  who  read  without  expectation  of  pecuniary  benefit. 


A  MANUAL  OF  POLITENESS, 

COMPRISING  THE 

PRINCIPLES  OF  ETIQUEHE  AND  RULES  OF  BEHAVIOUR 

EN  GENTEEL  SOCIETY,  FOR  PERSONS  OF  BOTH  SEXES. 

18mo.,  with  Plates. 


Book  of  Politeness. 


THE  GENTLEMAN  AND  LADY'S 
BOOK  OF  POLITENESS  AND  PROPRIETY  OF  DEPORTIVIENI 

DEDICATED  TO  THE  YOUTH  OF  BOTH  SEXES. 
BY  nSADAlVIE   CELNART. 

Translated  from  the  Sixth  Paris  Edition,  Enlarged  and  Improve'! 
Fifth    American    li^dition* 
One  volume,  18mo. 

THE  ANTEDILUVIANS;  Or,  The  World  Destroyed. 

A  NARRATIVE  POEM,  IN  TEN  BOOKS. 

BY  JAMES  M'HENRT,  M.D. 

One  volume,  18mo 

19 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAM  BO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

Bennett's  (Rev.  John)  Letters  to  a  Young  Lady, 

ON  A  VARIETY  OP  SUBJECTS  CALCULATED  TO  IMPROVE  THE  HEART, 
TO  FORM  THE  MANNERS,  AND  ENLIGHTEN  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

"That  our  daughters  may  be  aa  polished  cornen  of  the  temple." 
The  publishera  sincerely  hope  (for  the  happiness  of  mankind)  that  a  copy  of  thia  raluable  littl* 
work  will  be  found  the  companion  of  every  young  lady,  aa  much  of  the  happiness  of  every  tamilf 
depends  on  tlie  proper  cultivation  of  ttie  female  mind. 

THE  DAUGHTER'S  OWN  BOOK: 

OR,  JRACTICAl  Hms  FROM  A  FATHER  TO  HIS  DAUGHTEB.- 

One  volume,  18mo. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  practical  and  truly  Taluable  treatises  on  the  cnltnre  and  discipline  of  tha 
fbmale  mind,  which  has  liilherto  been  published  in  this  country ;  and  the  publisher*  are  very  cons' 
dent,  from  the  great  demand  for  this  invaluable  little  work,  that  ere  long  it  will  be  found  in  tb» 
Ubfftry  of  every  young  lady. 

THE  AMERICAN  CHESTERFIELD: 

Or,  "Youth's  Guide  to  the  Way  to  Wealth,  Honour,  and  Distinction,"  t.   I81110. 

CONTAINLNa  ALSO  A  COMPLETK  TBBATISE  ON  THE  ART  OF  OASVINO. 

"We  most  cordially  recommend  the  American  Chesterfield  to  general  attention;  but  to  youaf 
persons  particularly,  as  one  of  the  best  works  of  the  kind  that  has  ever  been  published  in  Uua 
eountry.  It  cannot  be  too  highly  appreciated,  nor  its  perusal  be  unproductive  of  saliafactioa  and 
laefulnesa." 

SENECA'S   MORALS. 

lY  WAY  OF  ABSTRACT  TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED,  A  DISCOURSE  UNDER 
THE  TITLE  OF  AN  AFTERTHOUGHT. 

....        BY    SIR    ROGER    L'ESTRANQE,    KNT^pynOt! 

A  new,  fine  edition ;  one  volume,  18mo. 
A  wpf  of  thia  ▼aloable  little  work  should  be  found  in  every  family  library. 

NEW  SONG-BOOK. 

drlgg's  Inuttierii  nnb  VStBim  $mp\tx; 

■EINO  A  CHOICE  COLLECTION  OF  THE  MOST  FASHIONABLE  SONGS,  MANY  OF  WHICH 
ARE  ORIGINAL. 

In  one  volume,  18mo. 

ttremt  ear«  was  tjiken,  in  the  ■election,  to  admit  no  con^  that  contained,  in  the  tlif  hteat  detrrMk 
ftoy  mdelicat*  or  improper  allusions;  and  with  i^rpat  propriety  it  may  oUun  tha  title  of  "  The  ?■» 
tour  Sonf-Book,  or  Soni^ster."    The  immortal  Shnkspeare  obMrvM  — 
"The  man  that  hath  not  music  in  himMlf, 
Nor  ia  not  moT«4  yrtth  oonoord  of  sweet  Mtiiids, 
b  At  for  trMMNNM,  •tntaxeiaa,  and  apoiia." 


ROBOTIIAM'S  POCKET  FRENCH  DICTWPY. 

CAREFULLY  REVISED, 
AND  THE  PRONUNCIATION  OP  ALL  THE  DIFFICULT  WORM  ADDIOi 

20 


LIPPINCOTT,  GEAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  LIFE  AND  OPINIONS  OF  TRISTRAM  SHANDY,  GENTLEMAN. 

COMPRISING   THE   H0M0R0U8    ADVENTDRES   OF 

UNCLE  TOBY  AND  CORPORAL   TRIM. 

BIT  Z..  STERITi:. 
Beautifully  Illustrated  by  Darley*    Stltclied* 


A  SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEY. 

BY   L.   STERNE. 

Illustrated  as  a'bove  by  Darley*    Stltclied* 

The  beauties  of  this  author  are  so  well  known,  and  his  errors  in  style  and  expression  to  lew  and 
&r  between,  that  one  reads  with  renewed  delight  his  delicate  turns,  Sic. 

THE  LIFE  OF  GENERAL  JACKSON, 

WITH  A  LIKENESS  OF  THE  OLD  HERO. 
One  volume,  18mo. 

LIFE  OF    P  AU  L    JO  N  ES. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 
WITH   ONE    HUNDP-ED  ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY  JAMES  HAMILTON, 
'rhe  work  is  compiled  from  his  oripnal  journals  and  correspondence,  and  includes  an  aceouat  of 
his  services  in  the  American  Revolution,  and  in  the  war  between  the  Russians  and  Tlirks  in  thi» 
Black  Sea.  There  is  scarcely  any  Naval  Hero,  of  any  age,  who  combined  in  his  character  so  much 
of  the  adventurous,  skilful  and  daring,  as  Paul  Jones.  The  incidents  of  his  life  are  almost  as  st^ 
ling  and  absorbing  as  those  of  romance.  His  achiev-emftnts  during  the  American  Revolution  —  th« 
fight  between  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  and  Serapis,  the  most  desperate  naval  action  on  record  — 
and  the  alarm  into  which,  with  so  small  a  force,  he  threw  the  coasts  of  England  and  Scotland  —  are 
matters  comparatively  well  known  to  Americans ;  but  the  incidents  of  his  subsequent  career  have 
been  veiled  in  obscurity,  which  is  dissipated  by  this  biography.  A  book  like  this,  narrating  the 
actions  of  such  a  man,  ought  to  meet  with  an  extensive  sale,  and  become  as  popular  as  Robinson 
Crusoe  in  fiction,  or  Weems's  Life  of  Marion  and  Washington,  and  similar  books,  in  fact.  It  con- 
tains 400  pages,  has  a  handsome  portrait  and  medallion  likeness  of  Jones,  and  is  illustrated  with 
numerous  original  wood  engravings  of  naval  scenes  and  distinguished  men  with  whom  he  wai 
familiar, 

THE  GREEK  EXIlEf 

Or,  A  Narrative  of  the  Captivity  and  Escape  of  Christopliorus  Plato  Castanis, 

DURING    THE    MASSACRE    ON"  THE   ISLAND    OF    SCIO   BY  THE   TURKS 
TOGETHEn  WITH  VARIOUS  ADVENTURES  IN  GREECE  AND  AMERICA. 

WBITTEN    BY   HIMSELF, 

Author  of  an  Essay  on  the  Ancient  and  Modem  Greek  Languages ;  Interpretation  of  the  Attribute 

of  the  Principal  Fabulous  Deities ;  The  Jewish  Maiden  of  Scio's  Citadel;  aad 

the  Greek  Boy  in  the  Sunday-SchooL 

One  volume,  12mo. 

THE  YOUNG  CHORISTER; 

k  Collection  of  New  and  Beautiful  Tunes,  adapted  to  the  use  of  Sabbath-Schools,  from  some  of\ 
most  diotmguished  composers  ;  together  with  many  of  the  author's  composinoni. 

EDITED  BY  MINARD  W.  WILSON. 
21 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  s  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

CAMP  LIFE  OF  A  VOLUNTEER. 

A  Campaign  in  Mexico;  Or,  A  Glimpse  at  Life  in  Camp. 

BY  "ONE  WHO  HAS  SEEN  THE  ELEPHANT." 

%\U  of  (itnnal  ^at [inrq  Caqlnr, 

COMPRISING   A   NARRATIVE  OP   EVENTS  CONNECTED   WITH    HIS   PROFESSIONAL 
CAREER,  AND  AUTHENTIC  INCIDENTS  OF  HIS  EARLY  YEARS. 

BY  J.  REESE  FRY  AND  R.  T.  CONRAD. 

With  an  original  and  accurate  Portrait,  and  eleven  elegant  Illustrations,  by  Darlsy, 

In  one  handsome  12mo.  vuluine. 

"It  is  by  far  the  fullest  and  most  interesting  biography  of  General  Taylor  that  we  have  ever  seen." 
^-Richmond  ( Whig)  Chronicle. 

"On  the  whole,  we  are  satisfied  that  this  volume  is  the  most  correct  and  comprehensive  on*  yeC 
pubbshed." —  Hunt's  Merchants'  Magazine. 

"The  superiority  of  this  edition  over  the  ephemeral  publications  of  the  day  consists  in  fuller  and 
more  autlientic  accounts  of  his  family,  his  early  bfe,  and  Indian  wars.  Tlie  narrative  of  hu  prtr- 
ceedinf^  in  Mexico  is  drawn  nartly  from  reliable  private  letters,  but  chiefly  from  bis  own  ofl&cial 
correspondence." 

"  It  forms  a  cheap,  substantial,  and  attractive  volume,  and  one  which  should  be  read  at  the  fire- 
tide  of  every  family  who  desire  a  faithful  and  true  life  of  the  Old  General" 


GENERAL  TAYLOR  AND  HIS  STAFF: 

Comprising  Memoirs  of  Generals  Taylor,  Worth,  Wool,  and  Butler ;  Cols.  May,  Cross,  Clay,  Hardin, 

Yell,  Hays,  and  other  distinguished  Officers  attached  to  General  Taylor's 

Army.     Interspersed  with 

NUMEROUS  ANECDOTES  OF  THE  MEXICAN  WAR, 

and  Personal  Adventures  of  the  Officers.    Compiled  from  Public  Documents  and 'Private  Corre- 
spondence.   With 

ACCURATE  PORTRAITS,  AND  OTHER  BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  one  volume,  12rao.  „   '      ' 


GENERAL  SCOTT  AND  HIS  STAFF: 

Comprising  Memoirs  of  Generals  Scott.  Twiggs,  Smith,  Quitman,  Shields,  Pillow,  Lane,  Cedwmlader 

Paltenon,  and  Pierce;  Cols.  Chiids,  Riley,  Harney,  and  Butler;  and  other 

distinguished  oOlcers  aitariied  to  General  Scott's  Aimy. 

TOflRTHCR   WITH 

Notices  of  General  Kearny,  Col.  Doniphan,  Col.  Fremont,  and  oTher  ofBcers  distinguished  la  tke 
Conquest  of  California  and  New  Mexico  ;  and  Personal  Adrentorea  of  the  Officers.    Com- 
piled from  Public  Documents  and  Private  Correspondence.    With 

*  CCURATE  PORTRAITS,  AND  OTHER    BEAUTIFUL   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 


THE  FAMILY  DENTIST, 

lifCLUDINQ  THE  SURGICAL,  MEDICAL  AND  MECHANICAL  TREATMENT 

OP  THE  TEETH. 

Illuitrated  i;vlth  ihlrty-one  Enfcra-rlnfca* 

.  By  CHARLES  A.  DU  BOUCHET,  M.  D.,  Dental  Surgeon. 
In  one  yolume,  ISmo. 

22 


R  A 


LIPPINCOTT,  ORAMEO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

MECHANICS  FOR  THE  MILLWRIGHT,  ENGINEER  AND  MACHINIST, 
CIVIL  ENGINEER,  AND  ARCHITECT 

CONTAlMINa 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  MECHANICS  APPLIED  TO  MACHINERY 

Of  American  models,  Steam-Engines,  Water-Works,  Navigation,  Bridge-building,  <kc  Ac    B» 

FREDERICK   OVERMAN, 

Author  of  **  The  Manufacture  of  Iron,"  and  other  scientific  treatises. 

Illustrated  by  150  Engravings.     In  one  large  12mo.  volume. 

WILLIAMS'S  TRAVELLER'S  AND  TOURIST'S  GUIDE 
Through  the  United  States,  Canada,  &c. 

This  book  will  be  found  replete  with  information,  not  only  to  the  traveller,  but  likewise  to  th» 
man  of  business.  In  its  preparation,  an  entirely  new  plan  has  been  adopted,  which,  we  are  con- 
rinced,  needs  only  a  trial  to  be  fully  appreciated. 

Among  its  many  valuable  features,  are  tables  showing  at  a  glance  the  dittarux,  fare,  nnd  tan* 
occupied  in  travelling  from  the  principal  cities  to  the  most  important  places  in  the  Union ;  so  thai 
the  question  frequently  asked,  without  obtaining  a  satisfactory  reply,  is  here  answered  in  fuH 
Other  tables  show  the  distances  from  New  York,  <tc.,  to  domestic  and  forei^  ports,  by  sea;  and 
also,  by  way  of  comparison,  from  New  York  and  Liverpool  to  the  principal  ports  beyond  and  around 
Cape  Horn,  &.C.,  as  well  as  via  tlie  Isthmus  of  Panama.  Accompanied  by  a  large  and  accurate  Map 
of  khe  United  States,  including  a  separate  Map  of  California,  Oregon,  New  Mexico  and  Utah.  Also, 
a  Map  of  tlie  Island  of  Cuba,  and  Plan  of  the  City  and  Harbor  of  Havana ;  and  a  Map  of  Niagara 
River  and  Fall*. 

THE  LEGISLATIVE  GUIDE: 

Containing  directions  for  conducting  business  in  the  House  of  Representatives ;  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States;  the  Joint  Rules  of  both  Houses  ;  a  Synopsis  of  Jefferson's  Manual,  and  copioaa 
Indices ;  together  with  a  concise  system  of  Rules  of  Order,  based  on  the  regulations  of  the 
U.  S.  Congress.    Designed  to  economise  time,  secure  uniformity  and  despatch  in  coo- 
ducting  business  in  all  secular  meetings,  and  also  in  all  religious,  political,  aitd 
Legislative  Assemblies. 

BY  JOSEPH  BARTLETT  BURLEIGH,  LL.  D. 
In  one  volume,  12mo. 

This  is  considered  by  our  Judges  and  Congressmen  as  decidedly  the  best  work  of  the  kind  extant 
Cveiy  yoang  man  in  the  country  should  have  a  copy  of  this  book. 

THE  INITIALS;  A  Story  of  Modern  Life. 

THREE  VOLUMES  OP  THE  LONDON  EDITION  COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME  12M0. 
V  A  new  novel,  equal  to  "  Jane  Eyre." 

WILD  WESTEEN  SCENES: 

A  NARRATIVE  OF  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  WESTERN  WILDERNESS. 

Wherein  the  Exploits  of  Daniel  Boone,  the  Great  American  Pioneer,  are  particularly  described 
Also,  Minute  Accounts  of  Bear,  Deer,  and  Buffalo  Hunts  —  Desperate  Conflicts  with  the 
Savages — Fishing  and  Fowling  Adventures  —  Encounters  with  Serpents,  <Jmx         ' 

By  Luke  Shoetfield,  Author  of  "The  Western  Merchant" 

BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUSTRATED,    One  volume,  12mo. 

POEMS  OF  THE  PLEASURES: 

Comirtlng  of  the  PLEASURES  OF  IMAGINATION,  by  Akenside ;  the  PLEASURES  OP  MEM0R7 

by  Samuel  Rogers ;  the  PLEASURES  OF  HOPE,  by  Campbell;  and  the  PLEASURES  O? 

FRIENDSHIP,  by  M'Henry.    With  a  Memoir  of  each  Author,  prepared  ezpreaslr 

for  this  work.    18mo. 

23 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

BALDWIN'S  PRONOUNCING  GAZETTEER, 


A  PRONOUNCING  GAZETTEER: 

CONTAIKINQ 

TOPOGRAPHICAL,  STATISnCAL,  AND  OTHER  INFORMATION,  OP  ALL  THK  MORE  IM 

POKTANT  PLACES  IN  THE  KNOWN  WORLD,  FKOM  THjf  MOST 

RECENT  AND  AUTHENTIC  SOURCES. 

BT  THOSZAS  BAZ.D\(rzxr. 

Aaaiated  by  several  other  Gentlemen. 

To  which  IS  added  an  APPENDIX,  containinEr  more  than  TEN  THOUSAND  ADDITIONAL  NAMES 
oiiiefly  of  the  small  Towiui  aud  Villag:e.s,  6lc.,  of  the  Uaited  States  and  of  Mexico. 


NINTH   EDITION,  WITH   A  SUPPLEMENT, 

3f  near  two  thousand  names,  besides  thosw 
11  itself  a  Complete  Vocabulary  of  Ueographicx 

ONE    VOLUME    12mO. — PRICE,    $1.50. 


Giving  the  Pronunciation  of  near  two  thousand  names,  besides  thosw  pronounced  in  the  Original 
Work  :  Forming  iu  itself  a  Complete  Vocabulary  of  Ueographical  Pronuuciation. 


lrt[inr'0  Htb.rarq  for  tlje  ISnusfljolb. 

Complete  in  Twelve  handsome  18mo.  Volumes,  bound  in  Scarlet  Cloth. 

1.  WOMAN'S  TRIALS;  OR,  TALES  AND  SKETCHES  FROM  TILE  UFE  AROUND  US. 

2.  MARRIED  LIFE;  ITS  SHADOWS  AND  SUNSHINE. 

3.  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR  LOST  AND  WON. 

4.  THE  WAYS  OF  PROVIDENCE  ;  OR.  "  HE  DOETH  ALL  THINGS  WELL." 
6.  HOME  SCENES  AND  HOME  INFLUENCES. 

6.  STORIES  FOR  YOUNG  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

7.  LESSONS  IN  LIFE.  FOR  ALL  WHO  WILL  READ  THP:M. 

a  SEEIVn.ME  AND  HARVEST;  OR,  WHATSOEVER  A  MAN  SOWETHTHAT  SHALL  US 

ALSO  REAP. 
9.  STORIES  FOR  PARENTS. 

10.  OFF-HAND  SKE  TCHES,  A  LITTLE  DASHED  WITH  HUMOR. 
n.  WORDS  FOR  THE  WISE. 
12.  THE  TRIED  AND  THE  TEMPTED. 

The  above  Series  are  sold  together  or  separate,  as  each  M'ork  is  complete  in  itself.  No  Pamil/  ahoaki 
be  witliout  a  copy  of  this  iulerestiug  and  instructive  Series.  Price  I'hirty-sevea  and  a  Half  Cents  per 
Volume. 

FIELD'S  SCRAP  BOOK.— New  Edition. 


litmrti  null  3JiisKllnaEnii3  Irtflp  I'Dnlt. 

of  Tales  and  Anecdotes—  Biorrnphical,  Historical,  Patriotic,  Moral,  Religioaa,  m 
mental  Pieces,  in  Prose  and  Poetry. 

Compiled  by  WILLIAM  FIELDS. 

SECOND  EDITION,  REVISED  AND  IMPROVED. 
In  one  handsome  8ro.  Volume.    Price,  S^-OOi 

POLITrcTiMTJ^^  ; 

A  WORD  UPON  OUR  EXAMPLE  AS  A  NATION,  OUR  LABOUR,  Ac. 

TOaXTHUt  WITB 

THE   POLITICS  OF   THE   NEW  TESTAMENT. 

BT  THE  AUTHOR  OP  "NEW  THEMES  FOB  THB  PROTESTANT  CLBRQT." 

One  vol.  8vo.,  half  cloth.    Price  fiO  cents.    For  nie  tj  all  the  Trade. 

THE  HUMAtTBODTAN^^  WITH  MAN. 

ILLUSTRATED   BY  THE   PRINCIPAL   ORGANS. 
BY  JAMES    JOHN    GARTH   WILKINSON, 

Memher  of  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons  of  England.  . 

iH  am   voLcifi.    12ho  —  prioi  91  25. 
14 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

BOARDMAN'S  BIBLE  IN   THE  FAMILY. 


€^t  38ikh  iif  tlj^  /nmili|: 

OR, 

HINTS  ON  DOMESTIC   HAPPINESS. 

BY   H.    A.    BOARD  MAN, 

PASTOR  OF  THE  TENTH  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH,  PHILADELPHIA. 
One  Volume  12nio.— Price,  One  Dollar. 

■     WHEELERilnS?oiFo?¥oRTHTAROLINA. 


OP 

NORTHCAHOLINA, 

From   1584  to   1851. 

Cortpiled  from  Original  Records,  Official  Documents,  and  Traditional  Statements ;  with  Biographical 
Sketches  of  her  Distinguished  Statesmen,  Jurists,  Lawyers,  Soldiers,  Divmes,  6lc. 

BY  JOHN  II.  WHEELER, 

Late  Treasurer  of  Vie  State. 
IN  ONE  VOLUME   OCTAVO.  —  PRICE,    $2.00. 

THE  Noir^^CAEOIjirTEADER 

CONTAININa 

A  HISTORY  AND  DESCRIPTION  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA,  SELECTIONS  IN  PROSE 

AND  VERSE,  (MANY  OF  THEM  BY  EMINENT  CITIZENS  OF  THE 

STAT^),  HISTORICAL  AND  CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLES, 

^nti  a  Uariets  o£  i^isccllaneous  Kuformatfon  anli  Statistics. 

BY  C.  II.  WILEY. 

"  My  own  g^reen  land  for  ever  1 
Land  of  the  beautiful  and  brave  — 
The  freeman's  home  —  the  martyr's  grave." 

lUuttrated  with  Engravings,  and  designed  for  Familiea  and  SehooU* 

ONE  VOLUME  12M0.    PKICE  «1.00. 

THIRTY  YEARS  WITH  THE  INDIAN  TRIBES. 


PERSONAL  MEMOIRS    ' 

OP  A 

ON  THE  AMERICAN  FRONTIERS: 

With  brief  Notices  of  passing  Events,  Facts,  and  Opiniontp 
A.  D.  1812  TO  A.  D.  1842. 

BY  HENRY  R.  SCHOOLCRAFT. 

ONE  LARGE  OCTAVO  VQLUME.     PKICE  THREE  DOLLARS. 

T  irriclLF¥ij¥Ti¥s ; 

OR, 

ROMANTIC  ADVENTURES  M  NORTHERN  MEXICO, 

BY   CAPTAIN  MAYNE   REID, 

AUTHOR  OP  THE  "RIFLE  RANQERS." 

Oomplete  in  One  Volume.     Price  Fifty  (Untt, 

C  25 


LIPPINCOTT,  aiUAIBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  A  HOUSEKEEPER. 

BY   MRS.  JOHN   SMITH. 

WITH    THIRTEEN    HUMOROUS    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

One  Volume  12/fto.     Price  50  Ctutt. 

Splendid  Illustrated  Books,  suitable  for  Gifts  for  tlie  Holidays 

THE  IRIS:   AN  ORIGINAL  SOUVENIR  FOR  ANT  YARK 

EDITED   BY    PROF.  JOHN   S,   HART. 
WITH  TWELVE  Sl'LEXDID  ILLUMINATIONS,  ALL  FROM  ORIGINAL  DESIQNS. 


THE  DEW-DKOP :  A  TRIBUTE  OF  AFFECTION. 

WITH    NINE    STEEL    ENGRAVINGS. 


GEMS    FROM    THE    SACRED    MINE. 

M'lTH   TEN  STEEL  I'LATES  AND  ILLUMINATIONS. 


'(KljB  ^nci's  (Dffniug. 

WITH   FOURTEEN  STEEL  PLATES  AND  ILLUMINATIONS. 


THE  STANDARD  EDITIONS  OF  THE  POETS. 

M'lTII    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

OK,  COUNTRY  HOSPITALITIES. 

BY  CATHARINE  SINCLAIR, 

Author  of  Jane  Bouverie."  "The  Business  of  Life,"  "  Modern  AcoomitlishmenU,"  Ac. 

One   Volume  12mo.      Price  50  cents,  paper;  cloth,  fine,  7b  cents. 


A  Book  for  every  Family. 


THE  DICTIONARY  OP  DOMESTIC  MEDICINE  AND  HOUSEHOLD  SDRGERI. 

BY   SPENCER   THOMPSON,   M.D.,  F.R.C.S., 

Of  Ediiil)ureh. 

ILLUSTRATED    WITH   NUMEROUS   OUTS. 

BSITKD    AND    ADAPTED    TO    TUB    WANTS    OP    THIS    COUNTRY,    BY    A    WELL-KNOWH 
PRACTITIONKR    OP    PHILADRLI'UIA. 

Ill  one  volume,  ilenii-iMnavo. 


€)}t  Urgitik'H  Bnngljtfr: 
A   TALE   OF   TWO   WORLDS. 

BY  W.  n.  CARPENTER, 
Anrnon  of  "claiborkb  thb  bkbrl,"  "jodh  thi  bold,"  *c.,  ha. 

One  Vuluma  ISnio.    Pn(-«  Tliirlj-«eT«n  and  »  Half  CsnU. 

WILLIAMS'S  NEW  MAP  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES,  ON  ROLLERS 

SIZE  TWO  AND  A  HALF  BY  THREE  FEET. 

A  now  Mnp  of  thf<  United  StNtrn,  upon  whinn  nrr  dflincntrKi  itii  vnst  works  of  IntemnI  Comni«a^ 

CiiUon,  Koutvti  Hcross  'he  CoiiUneiit,  iVc.,  KhowiiiK  nlsm  Ciuiadn  nad  Ihe  Ixliuid  uf  Culm, 

BY  W.  WILLIAMS. 

Thip  Mnp  in  hmulsoinplv  rolon'd  nml  nioitntrd  on  rollrm.  iind  will  b^  fotiml  a  beantifhl  ami  umIVi 
eut  to  the  Cuuntius-Hoiue  and  I'arlor  n.x  well  ns  (he  Scliuoi-Kuoni.    Pnc«  Two  D 

2G 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

VALUABLE  STANDARD  MEDICAL  BOOKS. 
DISPENSATORY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

BY  DRS.  WOODLAND  BACHE. 
New  £dition,  much  enlarged  and  carefully  revised.    One  volume,  royal  octavo. 


A  TREATISE  ON  THE  PRACTICE  OF  MEDICINE. 

BY  GEORGE  B.  WOOD,  M.  D., 
One  of  the  Authors  of  the  "  Dispensatory  of  the  U.  S.,"  Slc    New  edition,  improved.    2  volt.  Br^ 


AN  ILLUSTRATED  SYSTEM  OF  HUMAN  ANATOMY; 
SPECIAL,  MICROSCOPIC,  AND  PHYSIOLOGICAL. 

BY  SAMUEL  GEORGE  MORTON,  M.  D. 
With  891  beautiful  Illustrations.     One  volume,  royal  octavo. 

SMITH'S  OPlMlIli  SURGERY. 
A  SYSTEM  OF   OPERATIVE  SURGERY, 

BASED    UPON    THE    PRACTICE    OF    SURGEONS    IN    THE    UNITED 
STATES;  AND  COMPRISING  A 

Bibliographical  Indei  and  Historical  Record  of  many  of  their 

FOR    A    PERIOD    OF    200    YEARS. 

BY   HENRY  H.  SMITH,  M.D. 
Illustrated  with  nearly  1000  Engravings  on  Steel. 


MATERIA  MEDICA  AND  THERAPEUTICS, 

With  ample  niustrationa  of  Practice  in  all  the  Departments  of  Medical  Science,  and  copioiu  No- 
tices of  Toxicology. 

BV   TIIOia.A.S  D.  miTCHHlil.,  A.:NI.,  ltL.1}., 

Prof,  of  the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Medicine  in  the  Philadelphia  College  of  Medicine,  &c.  1  vol.  •»». 


THE  THEORY  AND  PRACTICE  OF  SURGERY, 

By  Geoegk  M'Clellan,  M.  D.     1  vol.  8vo. 


EBERLE'S  PRACTICE  OF  MEDICINE. 

New  Edition.    Improved  by  GEORGE  M'CLELLAN,  M.  D.    Two  volumes  in  1  vol.  8vo, 


EBERLE'S  THERAPEUTICS 

TWO  VOLUMES  IN  ONE. 


A  TREATISE  ON  THE  DISEASES  AND  PHYSICAL  EDUCATION  OF  CHILDREN. 

By  JOHN  EBERLE,  M.  D.,&c    Fourth  Edition.    With  Notes  and  very  large  Additions, 

By  TuoMAS  D.  Mitchell,  A.  M.,  M.  D.,  &c.     1  vol.  8vo. 


EBERLE'S  NOTES  FOR  STUDENTS -NEW  EDITION. 

•^*  These  worlcs  are  used  aa  text-books  in  most  of  the  Medical  Schools  in  the  United  State*. 


A  PRACTICAL  TREATISE  ON  POISONS: 

Their  Symptoms,  Antidotes,  and  Treatment.  By  0.  H.  Costill,  M.  D.  18mo. 


IDENTITIES  OF  LIGHT  AND  HEAT,  OF  CALORIC  AND  ELECTRICITY. 

BV  C.  CAMPBELL  COOPER. 

UNITED  STATES^HARMACOPIIA, 

Edition  of  IKn.     Pu»)li«hc(l  by  aijt!it»iify  of  the  National  MedirnI  ConTention      1  vol.  •»© 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMfiO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
^'AOVt    SCHOOLCRAFTS  GREAT  NATIONAL  WORK  ON  THE 

SnMaii  €u\itB  of  tlje  Itnittb  §\aU 

PART  SECOND— QUARTO. 
WITH   EIGHTY  BEAUTIFUL  H-LUSTR ATIONS  ON  STEEL, 
Engraved  in  the  first  style  of  the  art,  from  Drawings  by  Captain  Eastman,  U.  S. . 
PRICE,  FIFTEEiN  DOLLARS. 


COCKBURN'S  LIFE  OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 
LIFE  OF  LOUD  JEFFREY, 

WITH    A    SELECTION    FROM    HIS    CORRESPONDENCE, 

BY  LORD  COCKBURN, 

One  of  the  Judges  of  the  Court  of  Sessions  in  Scotland.    Two^  Tolumes,  demi-octaro. 

"  Those  who  know  Lord  Jeffrey  only  through  the  pages  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  get  bat  a  on*- 
lided,  and  not  the  most  pleasant  view  of  his  character." 

"  We  advise  our  readers  to  obtain  the  book,  and  enjoy  it  to  the  full  themselves.  They  will  onit* 
with  us  in  saying  that  the  self-drawn  character  portrayed  in  the  letters  of  Lord  Jeffi^y,  is  one  of  th« 
most  delightful  pictures  that  has  ever  been  presented  to  them."— Evetdnff  Bulletin. 

"Jeffrey  was  for  a  long  period  editor  of  the  Review,  and  was  admitted  by  all  the  other  contribo- 
toTS  to  be  the  leading  spirit  in  it.  In  addition  to  his  political  articles,  he  soon  showed  bis  wonderful 
powers  of  criticism  in  literature.  He  was  equally  at  home  whether  censuring  or  applauding;  ik 
his  onslauglits  on  the  nietliocrity  of  Southey,  or  the  misused  talents  of  Byron,  or  in  his  noble  easaya 
on  Shakspeare,  or  Scott,  or  Bums."— iSTew  York  Expreu. 

PRICE,  TWO  DOLLARS  AND  A' HALF. 

ROMANCE  OF  NATURAL  HISTORY; 

OR,  WILD  SCENES  AND  WED  HUNTERS. 

WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS,  IN  ONE  VOLUME  OCTAVO,  CLOTH. 

BY    C.  W.  WEBBER. 

"  We  have  rarely  read  a  volume  so  full  of  life  and  entliusinsm,  so  capable  of  transporting  th« 

reader  into  an  actor  among  the  scenes  and  persons  described.    The  volume  can  hardly  be  openet 

at  any  page  without  arresting  the  attention,  and  the  reader  is  home  along  with  the  movement  of  • 

•tyle  whose  elastic  spring  and  life  knows  no  weariness.''— J3a»<on  Couritr  tmd  Trtmtcnpt, 

PRICE,  TWO  DOLLARS. 

THE  LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  PENN,-^:r\r^T  a 

WITH  SELECTIONS  FROM  HIS  CORRESPONDENCE  AND  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

BY    SAMUEL    M.    JANNEY. 

Second  Edition,  Reviat'd. 


"  Our  author  has  acquitte<l  himself  in  a  manner  worthy  of  his  subject.  His  style  la  aa 
«nd  yet  sententious.  AlloRcther,  we  consider  it  a  highly  vnlualiln  addition  to  tho  litcmlore  of  our 
age,  and  a  work  that  should  fiud  its  way  into  the  library  of  every  Fneud."—  F)niemU'  InttlUifinctr, 
PhiltuMphia. 

"  Wo  n.'gard  this  life  of  the  great  founder  of  rennsylvaDia  as  a  raluabla  addition  to  tb«  Utaratora 
of  the  country."— /'Ai7a</f/p^io  Evctiing  Bulletin. 

"We  haw  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  Mr.  Jaimcy's  life  of  Pcnn  the  best,  baoaiwa  tba  moat 
mil  isfactory,  that  has  yet  been  written.    The  author's  style  is  clear  and  uoinvolTed,  and  wall  auilcd 
to  Am  pixrpowa  •€  biograplucal  narrative."— i>>Ht«viU«  JoumaL 
PRlOr.,  TWO  DOLLARS, 


28 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLIOAilONS. 

LIPPINCOTT'S  CABINET  HISTORIES  OF  THE  STATES, 

CONSISTING   OF   A   SERIKS   OP 

Cabinet  Histories  of  all  the  States  of  the  Union, 

TO  EMBRACE  A  TOLUME  FOR  EACH  STATE. 

We  have  so  far  completed  all  our  arrangements,  as  to  be  able  to  issue  the  whole  series  in  the 

shortest  possible  time  consistent  with  its  careful  literary  production.    SEVERAL  VOLUMES  ARE 

NOW  READY  FOR  SALE.    The  talented  authors  who  have  engaged  to  write  these  Histories,  are 

no  strangers  in  the  literary  world. 


NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS. 

"These  most  tastefully  printed  and  bound  volumes  form  the  first  instalment  of  a  series  of  Stat« 
Histories,  which,  without  superseding  the  bulkier  and  more  expensive  works  of  the  same  charac- 
ter, may  enter  household  channels  from  which  the  others  would  be  excluded  by  their  cost  and 
magnitude." 

"  In  conciseness,  clearness,  skill  of  arrangement,  and  graphic  interest,  they  are  a  most  excellent 
earnest  of  those  to  come.  They  are  eminently  adapted  both  to  interest  and  instruct,  and  should 
nave  a  place  in  the  family  library  of  every  Auiericau."— TV.  Y.  Courier  and  Enquirer. 

"  The  importance  of  a  series  of  State  History  like  those  now  in  preparation,  can  scarcely  be  esti- 
mated. Being  condensed  as  carefully  as  accuracy  and  interest  of  narrative  will  permit,  the  size 
and  price  of  the  volumes  will  bring  them  within  the  reach  of  every  family  in  the  country,  thus 
making  them  home-reading  books  for  old  and  young.  Each  individual  will,  in  conse<iuence,  become 
famiUar,  not  only  with  the  history  of  his  own  State,  but  witli  that  of  the  other  States ;  thus  mutual 
ihterests  will  be  re-awakened,  and  old  bonds  cemented  in  a  firmer  re-union."—  Home  Gazette. 


NEW  THEMES  FOR  THE  PROTESTANT  CLERGY; 

CREEDS  WITHOUT  CHARITY,  THEOLOGY  WITHOUT  HUMANITY,  AND  PROTESTANT- 

ISPifl  WITHOUT  CHRISTIANITY: 

With  Notes  by  the  Editor  on  the  Literature  of  Clinrity,  Population,  Pauperism,  Political 
Economy,  and  Protestantism. 

"The  great  question  which  the  book  discusses  is,  wliether  the  Church  of  this  age  is  what  the 
primitive  Church  was,  and  whetlier  Christians— hot  ii  pastors  and  people— are  doing  their  duty.  Our 
anthor  believes  not,  and,  to  our  miud,  he  has  made  out  a  strong  case.  He  thinks  there  is  abundant 
room  for  reform  at  the  present  time,  and  that  it  is  needed  almost  as  much  as  in  the  days  of  Luther. 
And  why  T  Because,  in  his  own  words, '  While  one  portion  of  nominal  Christians  have  busied 
themselves  with  forms  and  ceremonies  and  observances ;  with  pictures,  images,  and  processions ; 
others  have  given  to  doctrines  the  supremacy,  and  have  busied  themselves  in  laying  down  the 
lines  by  which  to  enforce  human  belief— lines  of  interpretation  by  which  to  control  human  opinion 
— lines  of  discipline  and  restraint,  by  wliich  to  bring  human  minds  to  uniformity  of  faith  and  actiwn. 
They  have  formed  creeds  and  catechisms ;  they  have  spread  themselves  over  the  whole  field  of  the 
■acred  writings,  and  scratched  up  all  the  surface  ;  they  have  gathered  all  the  straws,  and  turned 
over  all  the  pebbles,  and  detected  the  colour  and  determined  the  outline  of  every  stone  and  tree 
and  shrub ;  they  have  dwelt  with  nipture  upon  all  that  was  beautiful  and  sublime ;  but  they  have 
trampled  over  mines  of  golden  wisdom,  of  surpassing  richness  and  depth,  almost  without  a  thought, 
and  almost  without  an  effort  to  fatliom  these  priceless  treasures,  muck  less  to  take  possession 
of  them.'" 

PRICE.  ONE  DOLLAR. 


SIMPSON'S  MILITARY  JOURNAL. 


JOURNAL  OF  A  MILITARY  RECONNOISSANCE  FROM  SANTA  FE.  NEW 
MEXICO,  TO  THE  NAVAJO  COUNTRY. 

BY    JAMES    H.    SIMPSON,    A.M., 

FIRST    LIEUTENANT    CORPS   OF    TOPOGRAPHICAL   ENGINEERS. 

WITH   SEVENTY-FIVE   OOLOURED    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

One  volume,  octavo.    Price,  Three  Dollars. 

,C'  29 


IIPPINCOTT,  ORAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBttCATIONS. 

TALES  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  BORDER. 

BY   C.  W.  WEBBER. 
ONE  VOLUME  OCTAVO,  HANDSOMELY  ILLUSTRATED. 

The  Hunter  Naturalist,  a  Romance  of  Sporting; 

OR,  WILD  SCENES  AND  WILD  HUNTERS. 

BY    C.  W.  WEBBER, 
Author  of  "Shot  in  the  Eye,"  "Old  Hicks  the  Guide,"  "Gold  Mines  of  the  Gila,"  Ac. 
•»•'«  »"' '  ONE  VOLUME,  ROYAL  OCTAVO. 

.UiiStRATED  WITH  FORTY  BEAUTIFUL  ENGRAVINGS,  FROM  ORIGINAL  DRAWINGS, 

MANY   OF   WniCn    ARE    COLOURED. 
Price,  Five  Dollars. 


tlilM 


NIGHTS  IN  A  BLOCK-HOUSE; 

OR,  SKETCHES  OF  BORDER  LIFE, 

Embracing  Adventures  amonff  the  Indians,  Feats  of  the  Wild  Hunters,  and  Exploit*  of 

Drady,  Kenton,  Whetzel,  Fleeliart,  and  other  Border  Heroes  of  tlie  West 

BY  HENRY  O.  WATSON, 

Author  of  "Camp-Fires  of  the  Revolution." 

WITH    NUMEROUS    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

One  volume,  8vo.    Price,  §2  00. 

**'  Hamilton,  the  young  artist. 

^  "  ''■♦J  BY  AUGUSTA   BROWNE. 

WITQ 

AN  ESSAY  ON  SCULPTURE  AND  PAINTINO. 

BY   HAMILTON  A.  C.  BROWNE. 
1  vol.  18mo.    Price,  37  1-2  cents. 

THE  FISCAL  HISTORY  OF  TEXAS: 

EMBRACING  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  ITS  REVENUES,  DEBTS,  AND  CURRENCY,  PROM 

TUB  COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  IN  1834,  TO  1861-3, 

WITU  REMARKS  ON  AMERICAN  DEBTS. 

BY  WM.    M.    GOUGE, 

Author  of  "A  Short  History  of  Puijer  Money  and  Banking  in  the  United  Statea." 

In  ono  voL  8vo.,  cloth.    Prlc*  $1  60, 

INGEBSOtL'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  SETONT)  WAK: 

A  HISTORY  OF  THE  SECOND  WAR  BETWEEN  THE  U.  STATES  AND  GT.  BRITAIN. 
BY  CHARLES  J.  INGERSOLL. 

pecond  porlcc.     a  Vi^lunio'^-.  ^v..      iv;,-,.  ^im 
These  two  volnmen,  which  cnil)rQro  Iho  hoklde  tin  ;,inl  c,re,tt 

Britain  during  the  years  1314  and  'l.\  coniplelo  Mr.  !;  ,  r  ••  l-.ie 

War,"  as  it  hus  nsiutlly  hern  called.    A  grrat  dool  of  new  ami  yni^.  ,  j 

tiy  thH  auilmr  from  oi iijjnal  suuircs,  und  is  now  fl)>i  mlruUucctl  to  i  . 

m 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

FROST'S  JUVENILE  SERIES. 

TWELVE   VOLUMES,  16mo.,  WITH   FIVE   HUNDRED   ENGRAVINGS. 


WALTER  O'NEILL,  OR  THE  PLEASURE  OF  DOING-  GOOD.    25  Engrav'gi. 

JUNKER  SCHOTT,  and  other  Stories.    6  EngraTings. 

THE  LADY  OF  THE  LURLEI,  and  other  Stories.    12  Engravings. 

ELLEN'S  BIRTHDAY,  and  other  Stories.    20  Engravings. 

HERMAN,  and  other  Stories.    9  Engravings. 

KING  TREGEWALL'S  DAUGHTER,  and  other  Stories.    16  Engravings. 

THE  DROWNED  BOY,  and  other  Stories.    6  Engravings. 

THE  PICTORIAL  RHYME-BOOK.    122  Engravings. 

THE  PICTORIAL  NURSERY  BOOK.     117  Engravings. 

THE  GOOD  CHILD'S  REWARD.     115  Engravings. 

ALPHABET  OF  QUADRUPEDS.    26  Engravings. 

ALPHABET  OF  BIRDS.    26  Engravings. 

PRICE,  TWENTY-FIVE  CENTS  EACH. 

The  above  popular  and  attractive  series  of  New  Juveniles  for  the  Young:,  are  sold  together  o 
separately. 


THE  MILLINER  AND  THE  MILLIONAIRE. 

BY  MRS.  REBECCA  HICKS, 

(Of  Virginia,)  Author  of  "  Tlie  Lady  Teller,"  &c.    One  volume,  12mQ. 

Price,  373^  cents. 

STANSBUErS 
EXPEDITION  TO  THE  CREAT  SALT  LAKE, 


AN  EXPLORATION 

OF  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKfi 

OF  UTAH, 

CONTAINING   ITS    GEOGRAPHY,    NATURAL    HISTORY,    MINERALOGICAL    RB- 
SOURCES,  ANALYSIS  OP  ITS  WATERS,  AND  AN  AUTHENTIC  ACCOUNT  OF 

THE   MORMON    SETTLEMENT. 

ALSO, 

A  RECONNOISSANCE  OF  A  NEW  ROUTE  THROUGH  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

WITH  SEVENTY  BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATIONS, 

FROM  DRAWINGS  TAKEN  ON  THE  SPOT, 

AND  TWO  LARGE  AND  ACCURATE  MAPS  OF  THAT  REGION. 

BY  HO'VU'ILTLTi  ST ANSBITRTr, 

CAPTAIN    TOPOGRAPHICAL   ENGINEERS. 
Que  volume,  royal  octavo.    Price  Five  Dollars. 

31 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
THE  ABBOTSFORD  EDITION 

OF 

PRINTED   UPON   FINE   WHITE   PAPER,  WITH  NEW  AND  BEAUTIFUL  TYPE, 
JFROM    THE    LAST    ENGLISH    EDITION, 

EMBRACINO 

THE  AUTHOR'S  LATEST  CORRECTIONS,  NOTES,  ETC., 

COMPLETE  IN  TWELVE  VOLDMES,  DEMI-OCTAVO,  AND  NEATLY  BOUND  IN  CLOTH, 

mm  Jrllusttatfons, 
FOR    ONLY    TWELVE    DOLLARS, 

coNTAI^a^a 

WAVERLEY,  or  Tis  Sixty  Years  Since THE  FORTUNES  OF  KIQEL. 

GUY  MANNERING PEVERIL  OF  THE  PEAK. 

THE  ANTIQUARY QUENTIN  DURWARD. 

THE  BLACK  DWARF ST.  RONAN'S  WELL. 

OLD  MORTALITY REDGAUNTLET. 

ROB  ROY THE  BETROTHED.  ^ 

THE  HEART  OF  SHD-LOTHIAN THE  TALISMAN. 

THE  BRIDE  OP  LAMMERMOOR WOODSTOCK. 

A  LEGEND  OF  MONTROSE THE  HIGHLAND  WIDOW,  *a 

IVANHOB THE  FAIR  MAID  OP  PERTIL 

THE  MONASTERY ANNE  OP  GEIERSTEIN. 

THE  ABBOT COUNT  ROBERT  OF  PARIS. 

KENILWORTH C\STLE  DANGEROUS. 

THE  PIRATE THE  SURGEON'S  DAUGHTER,** 

ANT  OF  THK  ABOVE  NOVELS  SOLD,  IN  PAPER  COVERS,  AT  riFTT  CXNT8  SACO. 


ALSO, 

AN   ILLUSTRATED   EDITION 

OP 

THE    WAVERLEY    NOVELS,*^ 

In  Twelre  TolamM,  Royal  OeUro,  on  Suporflne  P*p«r,  with 

SEVERAL  HUNDRED  CHARACTERISTIC  AND  BEAUTIFUL  ENGRAVINGS. 

ELEGANTLY  BOUND  IN  CLOTH,  ODX 

J^tJce,    ©nip   CTtocnt  n  «  JTour  IDolIats. 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

A  NEW  AND  COMPLETE 

GAZETTEER  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

It  will  furnish  the  fullest  and  most  recent  information  respecting:  the  Geo^aphy,  Statistics,  and 
present  state  of  improvement,  of  every  part  of  this  great  Republic,  particularly  of 

TEXAS,  CALIFORNIA,  OREGON,  NEW  MEXICO, 

&c.    The  work  will  be  issued  as  soon  as  the  complete  official  returns  of  the  present  Census  are 

received. 

THE   ABOYE   WORK   WILL   BE   FOLLOWED   BY 

A  UNIVERSAL  GAZETTEER,  OR  GEOGRAPHICAL  DICTIONARY, 

of  the  most  complete  and  comprehensive  character.  It  will  be  compiled  from  the  best  English, 
French,  and  German  authorities,  and  will  be  published  the  moment  that  the  returns  of  the  present 
census  of  Europe  can  be  obtained. 


listeij  nf  f  tie  J&mDiis  nt  f tolj, 

THEIR   DOMESTIC   POLITY  AND  THEOLOGY. 

BY  J.  W.  GUNNISON, 
U.  S.  Corps  Topographical  Engineers. 
WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS,  IN  ONE  YOLUME  DEMI-OCTAVO. 

PRICE  FIFTY  CENTS. 


REPORT  OF  A  GEOLOGICAL  SURVEY 

OF 

WISCONSIN,  IOWA,  AND  MINNESOTA, 

AND    INCIDENTALLY   OF 

A  PORTION  OF  NEBRASKA  TERRITORY. 

MADE  UNDER  INSTRUCTIONS  FROM  THE  U.  S.  TREASURY  DEPARTMENT, 

United  States'  Geologist. 
WITH  OVER  150  ILLUSTRATIONS  ON  STEEL  AND  WOOD. 

Two  volumes,  quarto.    Price  Ten  Dollars. 

MERCHANTS'  MEMORANDUM  BOOK, 

CONTAINING  LISTS  OF  ALL  GOODS  PURCHASED  BY  COUNTRY  MERCHANTS,  &o 
One  volume,  18mo.,  Leather  cover.    Price,  .'50  cents. 

33 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  GO'S  PUBL1GATI0N8. 

ARTHUR'S 

BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUSTRATED, 

1.  WHO  IS  GREATEST  ?  and  other  Stories. 

2.  WHO  ARE  HAPPIEST?  and  other  Stories. 

3.  THE  POOR  WOOD-CUTTER,  and  other  Storiei. 

4.  MAGGY'S  BABY,  and  other  Storiec. 

6.  MR.  HAVEN'T-GOT-TIME  AND  MR.  DON'T-BE-IN-A-HURRT. 

6.  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

7.  UNCLE  BEN'S  NEW-YEAR'S  GIFT,  and  other  Storlec 
B.  THE  WOUNDED  BOY,  and  other  Stories. 

9.  THE  LOST  CHILDREN,  and  other  Storjea. 

10.  OUR  HARRY,  and  other  Poems  and  Stories. 

11.  THE  LAST  PENNY,  and  other  Stories. 

12.  PIERRE,  THE  ORGAN  BOY,  and  other  Stories. 

EACH  VOLUME  IS  ILLUSTRATED  WITH 

ENGRAVINGS  FROM  ORIGINAL   DESIGNS   BY   CROOME, 

And  are  sold  together  or  separately. 


TRUTHS  ILLUSTRATED  BY  GREAT  AUTHORS. 

A  DICTIONARY  OF  OVER  FOUR  THOUSAND  AIDS  TO  REFLECTION— QUOTA- 
TIONS OP  MAXIMS,  METAPHORS,  COUNSELS,  CAUTIONS,  APHORISMS, 
PROVERBS,  Ac.  Ac.,  IN  PROSE  AND  VERSE; 

COMPILED  FROM  SHAKSPEARE,  AND  OTHER  GREAT  WRITERS,  FROM  THE 
EARLIEST  AGES  TO  THE  PRESENT  TIME. 

A  new  edition,  with  American  additions  and  revisions. 


LIBRARY   EDITION    OF   SHAKSPEARE. 

(LARGE  TYPE.) 

THE  DRAIYIATIC  WORKS  OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE, 

WITH    A    LIFE    or    THE    POET, 

AVTt   KOTRS   ORIOIXAL   AND   SELECTED,   TOQETBBR  WITH   ▲   COPIOUS   OLOItABT. 

4  VOLU.MES  OCTAVO. 

STYLES    or    BINDIIfO: 

Cloth,  extra ^ -» $0  00 

Library  Btyle « 7  00 

Half-Turkey  moroooo S  00 

Half-calf  and  Turkoy.  antique  style 12  00 

Full  calf  and  Turkey,  antique  style .TT .....m....  16  00 

84 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

OR, 

PANDERINGS  OF   AN   AMERICAN   IN  GREAT  BRITAIN. 

IN  1851  AND  '52. 
BY    BENJAMIN     MORAN. 

This  volume  eiibodies  the  observations  of  the  author,  made  during:  eight  months'  wanderings, 
as  a  correspondent  for  American  Journals;  and  as  he  travelled  much  on  foot,  differs  essentially 
from  those  on  the  same  countries,  by  other  writers.  The  habits,  manners,  customs,  and  condition 
nf  the  people  have  been  carefully  noted,  and  his  views  of  them  are  given  in  clear,  bold  language. 
His  remarks  take  a  wide  range,  and  a.s  he  visited  every  county  in  England  but  three,  there  will  be 
much  in  the  work  of  a  novel  and  instructive  character. 

One  vol.  12mo.    Price  $1  25. 


DAY     DREAMS. 

iBV    MISS    TiLATLTIHA.    iVI.I<SXr. 

ONE  VOLUME  limo. 
Price,  paper,  50  cents.    Cloth,  75  cents. 


SIMON    KENTON:    OR,  THE    SCOUT'S    REVERSE. 

AN  HISTORICAL  ROMANCE.     '^^'^^^^^ 

BY  JAMES  WEIR. 
Illustrated,  cloth,  75  cents.    Paper,  50  cents. 


MARIE  DE  BERNIERE,   THE  MAROON, 

AND  OTHER  TALES, 

BY   W.    GILMORE    SIMMS. 

1  Tol.  12mo.,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  NATIONAL  FLAG  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

WITH  COLOURED  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

BIT  SCHUVZiBR  Hii.ia:ii.TOxr, 

CAPTAIN    BY     BREVET,    U.  8.  A. 
One  vol.,  crown  8vo.    Price  $1  00. 

ANNA   BISHOP'S    TRAVELS. 


TRAVELS  OF  ANNA  BISHOP  IN  MEXICO  (1849). 

WITH    TWELVE    BEAUTIFUL    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Price,  paper,  60  cents.    Cloth,  75  cents. 

35 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

A   REVIEW 

OF 

''NEW  THEMES  FOR  THE  PROTESTANT  CLERGY." 

ONE  VOLUME  12mo. 
Price,  paper,  25  cents.    Cloth,  50  cents. 

THE  BIBLE  IN  THE  COUNTING-HOUSE. 

B7  H.  IL.  BOJUclDMiLir,  D.D., 

AUTHOR    OF    "the    BIBLE    IN    THE    FAMIL  T." 

One  vol.  12mo.,  cloth.    Price  One  Dollar. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    NEW    CHURCHMAN. 

BY    JOHN    A.    LITTLE. 

ONE  VOLUME  12nio.    PRICE  76  CENTS. 


MILTON'S  WORKS-NEW  AND  COMPLETE  EDITION. 


WITH    A    LIFE.    DISSERTATION,  INDEX,    AND  NOTES, 

BY  PKOF.  O.  D.  CLEVELAND. 
ONE  VOLUME  KOYAL  12mo.,  CLOTH.    PRICE  $1  25. 


UNIFORM    AND    DRESS 

OF    TUB 

ARMY    OF    THE    UNITED    STATES. 

WITH   COLOURED   ILLUSTRATIONS. 
QUARTO,  CLOTIL    PRICE  FIVE  IHJLLAUS. 

UNIFORM    AND    DRESS 

OF     THE 

NAVY   OF  THE  UNITED  STATES, 

WITH    COLOURED    ILLUSTRATIONS. 
QUARTO,  CLOTH.    PRICE  FIVE  DOLLARS. 


M310168 


f   / 


( ^i 


'), 


r    u 


I  ^ 


i  i 


I  /iu 


1   ! 


lo 


V, 


■r,-x- 


